


Terminal

by Crowcaller



Series: Eternal Resurgence Trilogy [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Agender Character, Angels, Asexual Character, Bisexual Character, Demons, Drama, Dramedy, Elevators, F/M, Fun, Gay Stuff, Gen, Heaven, Hell, Hellhounds, Humor, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mild Gore, No Romance, Other, POV Character of Color, POV First Person, Past Relationship(s), Politics, Soul Selling, Strong Language, Strong Violence, lots of diversity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-13
Updated: 2017-01-21
Packaged: 2018-08-30 18:15:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 28
Words: 78,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8543881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crowcaller/pseuds/Crowcaller
Summary: A demon decides to leave Hell but is really, really bad at it."A demon named Mannie decides to leave Hell, taking with her Blake, an optimistic human. But before she can escape, her attention is pulled towards other matters- such as a plot by Hell's executives to make peace with Heaven... it's either that or a mutiny. Despite her good intentions, Mannie's volatile nature tends to put everyone in Hell at risk- especially when she teams up with a captured angel, promising him passage to Earth.Conflict is brewing, revolution is stirring, Blake goes missing, and no matter what, a lot of people are going to die... And all of it is probably going to be Mannie's fault."First in a trilogy, good fun, all complete. Updates every few days, and will move right on to book 2 and 3 when I'm done with it. Supernatural comedy/drama set in an unique take on Hell and featuring a very diverse cast.





	1. Off day

**Author's Note:**

> Not really sure if Ao3 is a good place for original work, but let's find out, right? This is already long done- heck, the trilogy was completed last year. So I'll be uploading a few chaps now, and then roughly weekly. Can't be abandoned. Stick around, it gets good.

There’s this really silly idea I keep hearing people spout that everyone is like a closed book, and that you got to make friends to really know all their secrets-

And god, is that _some bullshit_. I don’t have a single goddamn friend, and people are sitting me down and telling me their life stories left and right. I don’t know what it is about me- I pride myself on looking far from approachable. Just a few months ago my boss got a new secretary, and by the end of the first week she had blabbed to me everything I needed to know about her life- how she sold her soul to save her brother’s life, how she was one of triplets in a family of ten. I just sat there frowning, and the only thing I can think I might’ve done wrong in that scenario was give the impression that I was sympathizing.

Really I was more upset that my boss had hired another secretary. That was _my_ job. And what sort of accountant needs two secretaries? Scratch that- what sort of accountant needed one?

Kelly Galloway Campbell, bless his parents, was a weird guy. I guess I liked him enough, but he always struck me as a certified bastard, the kind of guy you’d want to get drunk with but would regret later. Long time off the warfronts, getting a little grey, and with very little tolerance for my shit.

I sat on his desk most days. As I was doing now.

“Are you planning on spending the rest of today staring off into space, Mannie? If so, I might as well give your work to Christina,” My boss said. For certain obvious reasons, we called him Kell. He _made us_ call him Kell, really.

“She couldn’t handle it,” I said.

“She’s not capable of delivering a letter? I had no idea.” Kell turned to Christina, who had a small desk in his office. “Christina, is this true?”

“I wish you two would stop talking about me like I wasn’t here,” she said, sighing.

“Mannie, do your work. It’s barely even a job, god knows we don’t pay you for it,” Kell said softly. He always got soft around me and that bugged my nerves like crazy. Treating me like some kind of child.

“Fine,” I grumbled to the best of my ability, “Hand it over.” Without looking back at him, I reached my hand out behind me.

Kell gently placed a sticky note in the palm of my hand. I read it over- really, it was only two lines of information. A room number and a signature from Kell.

My job was the same every day. Pick up a human from the lower levels, bring them to another room. Sometimes I brought them up to Earth. I had been doing this for five years. There was a certain sense of repetition to my life, the same minutes in the same uniform. The same ceaseless war, and eternal stalemate for nothing more particular than everyone’s lives.

God, Hell wasn’t what one’d hope it’d be. I guess there were _literal_ demons hanging around, and we were having a war against _actual_ angels- but if you weren’t a soldier, or someone worth anything, you basically spent your days outside of the sun and living off bland government rations.

I stuffed the sticky note into my pocket and jumped off Kell’s desk. I glanced back behind me, and Kell gave a tiny wave, watching me out of the corner of his eye. Busy on the computer, no doubt doing some important Few stuff.

Kell’s office of accounting was located in a small hallway in one of the levels of Hell. As what I could only assume started as a joke, the place was dubbed ‘Greed’- all the levels were named after sins. Most people preferred to just call them by numerical values, so Greed was just ‘Level Five’. I was not one of those people. Places named after sins added just a little bit of personality to what was otherwise a series of barren and structurally unsound tunnels.

Next to Pride, Greed was the largest of the levels, consisting of a number of dark apartments, various miscellaneous offices, and a farm or two. A farm! That was the one thing I actually cared about in Hell. The place was often an anachronism of technology, but now and again I’d spot something a little higher tech than expected. These giant, underground, sustainable farms were one of them.

Also, I really liked plants. I used to garden.

There was one really long hallway connecting all the levels together, but most people took the elevator. Saved on time. And leg pain.

People who were really fucking important- like Kell- got the privilege of a particular posh elevator. It was honestly the coolest looking thing, all gold and red and devastatingly shiny. I always felt like I mattered when I got to ride it, sneering down all those plebeian workers with their dull, _brass colored_ work elevators.

On a normal day, mind you, I was worth even less than them. Technically jobless, I did my work to fill the hours and keep a room. No friends, no hobbies that I could practice in Hell, and four books.

So if, sometimes, I seem like a snob, let it be said that it’s really my one relief in life.

I got in as fancily as I could, which was near impossible considering my wrinkled work shirt and unfashionable slacks. I gave a little half bow to the doorman as I showed him Kell’s signature on the crumbled sticky note. The guy had known me for years, but I still did this every time.

I hit the button for Wrath, the lowest level, the place where we did all our torturing.

Greed’s layout was like a pile of spaghetti, a mishmash of tunnels that overlapped and linked in a gross mess of dusty orange halls, smattered with patches of neat blue tiles. Wrath, meanwhile, was simple. They could afford tiles the whole way through, as well as a ceiling, and man, even _walls_. The layout was like a square spiral heading on a gradual upward incline, and at the very center was the supervisor’s office overlooking the great rift.

My instructions took me to room thirty-two. I knocked politely at the door, and a demon with particularly blue horns peered out. The thing about demons is that they don’t work quite as you’d hope, with an hierarchy of outrageousness. Instead, all of them got a couple of weird animal parts at random. Of course, most took to displaying just the horns or a few scales- it was hard to tailor all of your shirts in order to show off bulky wings, so most demons just hid them away through some sort of magic.

“Here for the human,” I said.

“Oh, yeah, I was wondering when you’d show up.” The guy moved aside so I could step into the room. It was like a little jail cell, with a toilet, bed, and desk, but a touch above- someone had elected to give the place red and white striped wallpaper, and the floor was an off white carpet.

The human was really more of a boy than anything else. “That’s the human?” I said.

“Yeah, I’m the human,” the kid said with a smile, “You?”

“What?”

“Are you human?”

“Do I look human?”

“Yeah, actually.”

I mumbled nothing under my breath, just sort of made harsh sounds as a means to intimidate.

“So, what are you doing here?” The human asked.

“Let’s go,” I said, walking out the door. The kid politely followed. He was a lot calmer than some of the people I’d had to deal with over the years.

“Bye then!” The demon who had been supervising him gave a friendly grin.

“What are you doing here?” The human asked again, as the door closed behind us.

“I’m going to take you to another room, and then in a week we’re going to kill you.”

“Hm,” he said, but he did it with a sort of jaunty connotation, like he had just seen a particularly interesting animal, “Really?”

“Yes.”

“I’ve been wondering when you’d get around to that. Can I really die down in Hell though? You’ve just been poking me with needles for a few months now. It gets old. I was expecting a little more torture when it came to Hell, not a sore arm and an occasional state of nausea.”

“We’re not doing this because we want you to suffer.”

“Feels like it.”

“What’s your name, boy?”

“Are you seriously calling me ‘boy’? You look a lot younger. And uh, it’s Blake. Last. Nineteen again, I think. Do you revert to the age you were when you made the contract? Because I’m pretty sure I did.”

“Yes. Please stop talking to me.”

“You know, I’ve been treated like a prisoner lot since I got to Hell, but this is the first time I’ve been taken to another room for it. Why?”

“You ask a lot more questions than I’d like to answer,” I sighed, “Look, the cycle change is coming up next week. We’re going to get rid of you when that happens, but to make sure we don’t miss anyone, Hell likes to gather you all together in a room near the surface in preparation.”

“And this is your job? Just transporting live goods?” Blake asked. Man, he never shut up, did he?

“I’m second in command to Kell.”

“Who is...?”

“An accountant.”

“An accountant in Hell? Where’s all the lawyers! Ha, okay, that was seriously unfunny. I’m not one for humor. I am, however, one for wondering what the hell kinda job that is. I guess I shouldn’t let anything about Hell surprise me though.”

“Please stop talking. This is a ten minute walk at most, and you’re going to be dead by the end of the week so nothing you say or learn really matters.”

I hear Blake stifle a laugh. “What’s your name?”

“That’s a perfect example of a question _not_ to bother asking.”

“I’m just curious. Maybe before I go out and die I can ask this Kell person to give his second in command a more dignified job.”

“A psychopomp is a very noble profession,” I said stiffly.

“What.” Blake said, “What the hell is that.”

“Someone who escorts the dead into the afterlife. God, read a dictionary.”

“Isn’t this already the afterlife? Hey, wait a second- where the hell am I going to end up once I die here? Do I finally get to go to Heaven?”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “You wouldn’t want to even visit Heaven, believe me.”

“Whatever. My earlier point still stands. Your boss is giving you some really meager labor for his best accountant. Shouldn’t you be crunching numbers? Really important numbers?”

“I’m not really his second in command. More like... his secretary,” I admitted.

“Secretary? Shouldn’t you be scheduling appointments and answering the phone then?”

“Okay, I’m not really his secretary. I just... sort of hang around his office and do him favors.”

“Why?”

“To keep tabs?” I said, “Look, I don’t really know. I’ve been doing this for half a decade now. I thought I’d observe Kell since he has power and an bloody history. I’ll probably find something else to do soon. And! None of this is any of your moribund ass’ business anyway, so shut up.”

“If it’s been five years, I doubt you’re going to change jobs anytime soon. Everyone is always talking about changing their life, and no one ever gets around to it.”

“It’s different for me.”

“Prove it.” Blake was basically giggling. Despite the fact he was obviously screwing around, anticipating death and all, I took his half advice somewhat seriously. It was true this job was getting... boring. Kell had Christina now, and even before her I hadn’t witnessed anything more interesting than a couple failed revolutions and Kell kissing his secret boyfriend.

And I _had_ been telling myself I’d get moving for a while now. Hell was nice and all, but Earth was always a little less exciting and a lot more bigger.

I stopped walking, just a few feet from the supervisor’s office that I was supposed to be dropping Blake off at. “Okay. New plan. You’ve won.”

“Won what?”

“A chance to not die.”

“Hey, I’m always up to not die.”

“Let’s go then. To Earth.” I had a plan in my head already formed, and it involved getting on the elevator and riding up to Earth. It’d take about half an hour at most.

“Neat,” Blake said, “You make life altering changes with remarkable speed. How long did that take for you to decide? Twenty seconds?”

“It’s not just you,” I said, “I’ve been thinking of moving on for a long time now.”

“Yeah, I suppose it’s been nearly a full minute by now.”

“Five years, since the allure of the first few days faded. Maybe I just needed a someone to rudely remind me of it.”

“I _wasn’t_ being rude.”

“Let’s get going,” I said, “Actually, wait here.” Another plan had come to mind, and it was a lot worse than my last one. And it started in Wrath and ended in Pride and was, in general, a stupid idea.

Something I’d be good at, then.

I knocked loudly on the door to the supervisor’s office, wracking my mind for his name- Phillip, that was it. Dr. Phillip Miller. Old bastard.

“You have such a pleasant knock!” Blake exclaimed.

I waited by the door for about five minutes. In this span of time, Blake continued to dutifully wait, but he had this look on his face, examining me in the same way one might observe a very large but peaceful bear.

“Continue waiting here.”

Blake shrugged in a manner that looked very sarcastic.

The door was a heavy off blue metal cut to resemble a stately oak door. It took most of my strength to pull it open and look inside.

God, this place was nice. Three couches- three whole couches!- gathered in one corner, a long meeting table in the other. On the far wall, by a large bay of windows, was a small desk with a tall man sitting at it.

“Hey!” I shouted inside. “Fuck you Phillip!” I flipped him off and shut the door in a hurry.

I think I felt pretty satisfied about that, but Blake was frowning. “The heck was that about?”

“I’m going to take you to Earth, I promise, but I while I’m still here I figure I might as well screw around a bit. Maybe get them to sic security on us.”

“I... would really like to not go to jail, _or_ die. Let’s just leave, please?”

“No, wait, I still need to tell Kell to fuck off.”

“No, this is a bad idea,” Blake said, “Man, what’s your name?”

“Ug. Mannie, okay?”

“You’re not making that up.”

“I’m really serious. And not too fond of it either.”

“Okay, so look Mannie: I’m really glad you’re opting to break me out of Hell. But if there’s some easy, non-suspicious, _non-hellhounded_ route out of here, we should take that. If I have one goal in life, it’s to avoid dying, suffering, and death.”

“Kell will like it if I call him a motherfucker though. We really do need to stop by anyway so I can grab my stuff,” I said, “Don’t worry about me. I’ll always be fine.” I looked back at the heavy metal door to Phillip’s office. “Do you think Phillip heard me? He’s really old. God, what if he’s deaf? I’m going back in there.”

I was probably too giddy, but for once in my life, a few things were happening that were only slightly out of the ordinary. Normally my life was all or nothing, and trust me, that gets old quick. This was just going to be an exciting quitting story. The sort of thing you’d gossip about with your friends.

It’d be awesome if I ended up on the news.

I went back inside the office and this time walked right up to Phillip’s desk. “What is it?” He asked. God, he was so old. Demons age around half the rate of humans, but only to a point. Most are stuck looking roughly forty-five for _years_ , until at a certain point when that weird magic just quits. They don’t go wrinkly and frail. They just go grey. Hair, skin, nails- everything gets this sickly color, and then bam, in a few years tops they die.

It was really gross. Phillip didn’t have much longer.

“Fuck you,” I said.

He sighed politely. “Who are you?”

“I work for Kell? And drop humans off here sometimes. I’m here to tell you I’m quitting.”

“What are you quitting?” He asked, utterly bored.

“My job. Being a demon. Whatever.”

“Go on then.”

“I’m also taking a human to Earth.”

“Isn’t that rather pointless?”

“Yeah, but I’m still doing it.”

“Goodbye.”

“Okay.”

I left. God! What a prick. I flipped him off again for good measure, but it really wasn’t as satisfactory as I hoped it’d feel. It really just felt childish.

Blake was judging me when I faced him again. “You all done?”

“We’re stopping by Kell’s place.”

“I barely know you, Mannie, and already I worry for you.”

“I’m just having an off day.”

“Then I’m even more worried for what a _good_ day is for you.”

* * *

 

A Mannie and a Blake. Mannie's ace/agender/"dubiously aromantic" btw, I just fell into using she pronouns. The story itself she's never ID'd by any gender or pronouns.

Blake is nice. We all like Blake.

I have a tumblr or two: Pokemon-Moon or Hellisntreal (art blog)

And where is this strange little story going? Well, can't quite spoiler it of course, but to ENTICE you to READ it:

A preview of what's to come.


	2. Deeper down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mannie, now deciding she's had enough of Hell, decides to leave. Petty paperwork stop her in her tracks.

“Should I be fearing for my life right now?” Blake glanced behind him, as he had been doing in regular intervals for the last ten minutes. “Just give me a warning when it comes time. I’ve been practicing my screaming.”

“I’m _hoping_ Phillip’s going to throw something at us, but it looks like we’re in the clear.” My voice was not suited to growling or grumbling, but I did my best. “And Kell probably won’t do a thing either. This whole revenge schtick is going to be harder than I thought.”

“You could just _not_ do it,” Blake said testily.

“Sure,” I said playfully, like I was actually considering his suggestion.

I noticed Blake shoot me an upset look out of the corner of my eye, but he kept quiet. Unfortunately, he didn’t seem very intimidated by me, but he still was being polite, perhaps in case I dumped him with the same spontaneity that I had picked him up.

To be careful, and sort of to spite him, I had decided not to take the easy route by elevator back up to Greed. Running parallel to the elevator bays was a single long hall at an incline, honestly worse than a staircase. I always felt like I needed hiking boots when walking it or else I might fall backwards.

Hell was definitely not a well thought-out place, but that statement carried a lot of bizarre connotations. Just who out there had set expectations for Hell’s architecture anyway?

My plan to pointlessly ail Blake with needless exercise was failing, as it had slipped my mind how truly weak _I_ was. My legs ached by the time we reached Greed, I was sweaty, and completely out of breath.

Blake, meanwhile, looked as chipper as always, though apparently nearly as worn out. We had been alone our entire ascent, for the simple reason that this hallway was clearly a mistake. Who would build an incline this steep? And who would willingly walk it when there were sweet, glorious elevators waiting on every floor?

“What exactly is the plan?” Blake asked, “Mind you, I’m talking about the bad one. Not the smart one that is _immediately leaving_.”

“You can stay in my dorm room while I deal with Kell.”

“Dorm room? What, are you a college student?”

“Dormitory. Collection of private rooms to stay in. I live there.”

“Oh! So your work gives you a house?”

“A room. And meals. And that’s all I need to live, so that’s all I get.”

“I’d like to make a quip like ‘sounds like prison’ or ‘that seems sort of illegal, actually’ but honestly? We’re in Hell. Not too surprised by anything at this point.”

The general feel for Greed was that someone had thrown a couple of doors onto the walls, slammed a few tiles onto the dirt floor, and called it a day. On occasion we’d turn onto a small stretch of hall with a tiled floor, or bizarrely a selection of landscape paintings, and that would quickly shift into something else. Usually something dirt based.

The lights flickered.

Navigating Greed was a terrible game to play, reminiscent of... I don’t know. Wandering a hedge maze with no dead ends? Stumbling around an airplane hanger blind and tipsy? I really only knew for certain a few places and the exit.

My dorm was essentially a hole in the wall, like one of those fancy hotels built into caves but without any of the upkeep and amenities. It was a door built into the rock and a series of carved windows in case you wanted to watch the occasional straggler pass by.

My actual room was not much bigger than my bed, and even that was built into the wall. I had a government-issued television on top of a mini fridge. My literary collection of four books was on top of the television, amassing dust.

“I’ll be back at some point. Help yourself to the television.”

“Did you paint this place yourself?” Blake asked, glancing about my room with clear displeasure.

“Yes.” So I had. People rarely stayed in these dorms- payless work like mine was really only meant for the poor, homeless, and criminals. And they all got out eventually. I took whatever they left for myself, and one day, there had been several buckets of yellow paint.

I don’t know exactly why someone had that much paint in their room, but I took it and spent the next couple of days swabbing my room in the color with someone else’s old hoodie.

Now my scratchy walls were a blotchy yellow, and I had made them that way. And that meant I liked them quite a lot.

“You’re supposed to use primer. And do multiple coats. It looks awful.”

“I did not realize you were a certified judge of home decor.”

“My mother’s a painter,” Blake said, like that was an excuse, “Just trying to help.”

“I just want to remind you that, uh, you do realize you’re in Hell? And I’m you’re only way out? So treat me with respect, please.” My voice did not do menacing very well.

“Would someone who didn’t respect you give you their honest opinion on the quality of your interior design?” Blake said, not missing a beat, “Go do your stupid plan. I’m sort of excited for Hell television. Do you guys have like, sitcoms? Somehow the very idea of a classic american sitcom but with just, casual demons, sounds absolutely hilarious to me.”

“It’s mostly gossip about The Few and war stuff. We get Earth shows on one of the channels though.”

“Shucks.” Blake jumped onto my bed. “Ow. Man, this could be a rock and I wouldn’t know the difference.”

“Hey. I said you could help yourself to the TV. Stay off my bed.”

“Can I get something to eat?”

I raised a finger at him warningly.

“Oh. Right. Just the TV then, huh?” He slid off my bed and onto the floor. “You do realize your floor is hard tile, right?”

I kept my finger raised, staring him straight in the eye as I left the room.

Locking the door behind me, I set off for my office. It was precisely eleven twenty three according to my spectacular internal clock, meaning I had a good twenty minutes to get there and irritate Kell before his lunch break.

This proved impossible, however, as I found out the moment I stepped into Kell’s private office and found a significant lack of Kell.

Christina was there though. “Hey,” she said.

“Hi.”

Christina was the sort of girl who could energize someone to exhaustion, steal their wallet, and then sell them a purse. She was terrifyingly juvenile, not terribly bright, but sort of naively driven. But I mean, she was like nineteen. She’d grow out of her success.

“Where’s Kell?” I sort of nodded at her. People who were both younger and more successful than me always sort of got on my nerves. But we had developed a sort of restrained manner when we were forced to chat.

“Lunch”

“Bit early.”

“Yeah. Might be a meeting.”

“Right. Uh. What are you doing here then?”

“Just kind of... filing things. You know.”

“Can you... call him or something?”

Honestly, we weren’t really the most exciting conversational pair.

She shrugged emotionlessly. “He did leave you something.” She sorted through the papers on Kell’s desk until she came up with a small note and two envelopes. I guess I should have been more concerned about her reasons for rifling through his belongings, but she was his secretary. Presumably they had reached a certain level of paperwork-moving trust.

She handed the letters to me. I opened the note first, which wasn’t really different from any other note I had received from Kell in the past- it just thanked me for running the errand for him. He wrote one of these for me like every day, even if he was sitting right in front of me. It was sort of embarrassing, and sincerely difficult to tell if he was being passive-aggressive or not.

The envelopes were something different in that I hadn’t been expecting them. They were more of the same in that they were just another errand Kell wanted me to run for him.

Both envelopes had ‘Wrath’ written on them. The first was for Phillip Miller, while the second was for someone named Marie Newman.

“I was just in Wrath though.”

“Guess you’ll just have to scurry back down again,” said Christina with a certain air that suggested apathy. I’d been running errands for Kell for however long, and Christina had grown quite used to watching me run in and out of the office.

“I’m quitting this job though.”

She stared me down for a little while. Four seconds, actually, but it was still a significant pause in our banter. “He’s not going to want to talk to you if he learns you got these letters and never delivered them.”

“I don’t really want to do this,” I said, staring at the papers in my hands, “Not a big fan of the concept.”

“Wrath’s not... a nice place,” Christina said. I waited for her to add something else to that thought, but she left it hanging for an uncomfortable amount of time. She was flipping though Kell’s personal planner with a determined look on her face. “I’ll come with.”

“Huh?”

“I’m coming with you.”

“To... deliver these letters?”

“Yes.”

“Is there a reason you’re...?”

Christina blushed. “I have something to do there too, alright?”

“I mean...” I probably did not have a very friendly expression right now. “Not like I can stop you.”

“Let’s hurry.”

 

Every few seconds I took an obvious glance at Christina, just to see if it’d inspire me to say something to her. Spending this much time with her outside the office seemed like something that warranted a proper dialogue between us, some sort of bonding conversation, but I was still thrown off by her actual presence.

I clutched the letters in my hand as we rode the elevator down to Wrath, and watched as Christina took out her ponytail and retied it into a bun. I think she was a natural blonde, but she dyed her hair candy red, and was the sort of girl who colored her eyebrows into dark black lines. She fixed up her outfit, too, straightening her button down shirt and tucking it back into her skirt.

I looked primarily at the letters, only once taking a good look at myself in the mirrored doors of the elevator, brushing my hair higher onto my head and frowning at the bags under my eyes.

Before we reached Wrath, we stopped at the floor in between- unofficially called Gluttony, it was basically just a giant cafeteria for people who didn’t want to head all the way up to the city to get lunch. Two women got on here, and since we were using the fancy executive elevator, it was a good enough guess to say they were both executives.

Members of The Few, I’d guess, the dumbly named group of thirteen who had absolute power in Hell. Both of them were frightening to me- one, though she was yawning and rubbing her eyes, was muscular and covered in tattoos. On her right arm she had a steady stream of thin black lines- angelic kill counts, very vogue for the people who had enough bloodlust to not just survive the front lines, but thrive.

The other was a simple enough woman wearing a comfy red sweater and comically large circular glasses- but she was also actively glaring at Christina and I, with her ringed fist in the air like she was thinking of threatening us.

“Hey Chrissie,” the tough one said.

“Hey,” Christina replied nervously.

At Wrath, I kept waiting for the two women to leave us, holding my breath at every door and praying for the best. But they kept with us right to the end, silently following us into Phillip’s office.

Once inside, they tapered off and joined the others- there were quite a lot of people gathered here, all well polished types. Christina stayed behind me as I went to deliver Phillip’s letter, though a couple people seemed to be examining her with interest. Either that or they were looking at me, but I wasn’t nearly important enough for that.

Phillip looked at me with the sort of reproach only the elderly are capable of as I handed him his letter. “Thought you’d be on Earth by now.”

I wanted to reply with something giddy and snappy, but all I could do was look ashamed and shuffle away as he opened his mail.

Next I had to find Marie Newman. Surely she was someone pretty high up if Kell was in contact with her, and one of the intimidating women from before seemed like a good guess. I was a bit miffed I didn’t know their names. Usually I kept track of everyone important via the tabloids, but the military branch of The Few shifted so often it was easy to miss someone.

The tattooed one was closest, now talking to Phillip and looking over the letter with him, but the other was a lot less scary.

I approached her from behind. “Hi-”

She swung around, and somehow now was carrying a bright silver sword. “What is it?” She said sharply. My reflexes had failed me, and I had jumped back a bit.

“What’s your name?” I said, nearly stuttering. I was not a big fan of that sword.

“Sydney Westman. Why?”

“Just checking.” I turned around to go speak with the other, but she grabbed the back of my shirt.

“Who are you? Why did you want to know my name?” She demanded, loosening her grip so I could turn and face her again.

“I work for Kell, and I have to deliver a letter to someone named Marie Newman,” I said, waving my hands in front of my face.

“Why would Kell trust you to deliver _that_ sort of info?” The anger died from her face and a very genuine confusion replaced it. “I’ll take you there myself I guess. Probably for the best.” She looked at her watch and mumbled, “It shouldn’t take too long.”

“Can you just give me directions?” I said, not enthusiastic about the idea.

“Top secret stuff. And I still don’t know your name.”

“It’s Mannie,” I said. I looked behind me and found Christina, who was standing in the middle of the room clutching her elbow and flicking her eyes between the various groups of people chatting in the room, like someone who went to prom alone. I frowned at her, and she shrugged.

She hurried over to me. “Are you leaving?”

“Oh, you’re with Christina?” Sydney remarked, making her disapproval quite clear.

“I feel like it’s not really my place to decide that,” I said.

“It is definitely mine, you’re right,” Sydney said, “And I do happen to know that Christina can’t be trusted to be here unsupervised, knowing the crowds _she_ runs with. On the other hand, neither she nor you have the security clearance for what Marie does... but one last counterpoint: who gives a shit?”

I tried to communicate to Christina my curiosity of what Sydney was alluding to, but she was busy appearing freaked out.

“Okay,” I said, hoping to get things moving.

“If I’m really lucky, hey, maybe I’ll be returning back here alone.” Sydney threw her hands in the air in a sort of lax shrug, and laughed. “The implication there being that you both will die.”

“That’s not legal,” Christina mumbled under her breath.

Sydney waited until the large steel doors of the office closed behind us before answering, “Oh, you’d be surprised.”

* * *

 

another mannie. I have some art of Sydney and Chrissie but it's a bit old...

 


	3. Meet cute

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mannie views mysteries and meets someone interesting.

By the elevator, at the very end of Wrath, there was one hallway I had never been down. Actually, I had never even gotten a proper look down it- it was guarded by a hellhound, largest I’d ever seen, and though she was often dozing off it was utterly impossible to sneak around her.

She took up the entire hallway, a giant off brown wolf with little white dapples that would have been endearing if she wasn’t so monstrous. Sydney approached her and she opened one of her grey eyes for a second. Then, she began to stand up, and in another motion she was human shaped again, a short woman who gave a polite little bow to Sydney and exchanged small talk.

After we had passed, I looked behind us and caught her changing back again and settling onto the floor with a wave of dust.

“So what exactly is down here?” Christina said, “The pit, I’d think, but that’s not quite top secret.”

“Possibly the only part of Hell kept under heavy guard,” Sydney said with a smirk. I think she was just having fun bringing us here, vague threats notwithstanding.

There was a heavy slant as we headed down to what I was now sure was the pit- but Christina was right, though the pit was under some guard it wasn’t exactly exclusive, with proper clearence you could catch an elevator from Pride straight to it.

At the end of the hall was a set of large metal doors, and beyond it was the pit room, as expected. About forty feet up were the windows to Phillip’s office, though no one was looking down on us from here.

The pit itself was a nasty sight, like a regulated sinkhole. It was deep as hell, and looked like it may have opened without warning, the blue floor tiles jagged around the edges. Sydney took us past it, but I couldn’t resist a small peek down to the rift below. Didn’t look like anything but darkness, but I had been through enough times to know better.

“Oh,” said Christina, suddenly, and I agreed the moment I realized why.

At the other end of the room was a white door against the white wall, with two silver locks. Somehow, I had never really taken note of it before, but its presence wasn’t a surprise either. I had merely not bothered to remember it.

Sydney unlocked the door with two keys off a keychain and went inside, motioning for us to follow. “This is the part you might not like,” she said, but her maniacal sense of imposition seemed to have died down a little, like she now had to admit we were going to be pretty safe.

The room was bright, white, and contained no obvious threats. A single woman was sitting in one chair out of many, clipboard in hand, as she watched the wall.

Or not wall- one way mirror. On the other side was a bed, a bathroom set, a table with restraints, and a sleeping man.

“General Westman,” the sitting woman said, getting to her feet and giving a small bow. “Who are they?”

“Just here for kicks,” Sydney said, suddenly pushing me forward like a parent encouraging their child to socialize.

I stepped forward and stiffly gave Marie her letter. “It’s from Kell,” I said.

She sighed the moment she read the note. “Again? Really?” She looked to Sydney. “It’s what you’d think.” She walked over to a small steel table in the corner of the room. Below it was a mini-freezer, and out of that she pulled a ring. She dropped it into my palm, and before I could get a look at it, closed my fingers over it. “For Kell,” she said.

“I have a feeling I could use a new one too,” Sydney said, grimacing. She took the large ring off her finger and gave it Marie, who returned with a new one from the freezer.

I glanced back at Christina, who looked deeply troubled by all this.

“Come on then, children,” Sydney said, leading us outside. “That’s all the confidential stuff I can spoil you on today.”

“You two seemed pretty focused on jewelry,” I remarked.

“That’s not supposed to be your main takeaway from that,” Sydney said, but she sounded like she didn’t care. “Listen, can I leave you little tykes alone down here? I’m sure you know better than to bother Marie again, so please just take the elevator home again. I need to head back to the office, and both of you are slow walkers.”

“You don’t look like a very fast walker.” I said.

“Uncalled for.” Syndey responded, and she proceeded to power walk at a remarkable pace away from us.

When she was gone, Christina crept over to the edge of the pit. “Hey, how much did you understand from all that?”

“What, the rings?”

“Yeah. Everything. I was nervous as shit since- I guess you could tell? Sydney totally knows that I know- I mean.” She laughed. “I just wanted to come here and spy, but man! It’s a lot harder than I’d hoped to wing it.”

“Who are you spying for?” I asked. My narrative of events and persons in Hell was pretty solid, and she didn’t fit in with all that I knew.

“Myself, I guess?” She giggled nervously. “It’s nothing huge. Those guys up there- they’re having a super secret meeting while Kell is having his own secret meeting. So I thought I’d snoop on his behalf.”

“What were you hoping to find out?” I asked, following her line of sight up to the office’s bay windows. Someone, silhouetted, was watching us.

“They were probably going to kick us out before the meeting started anyway, so I’m not sure what my plan was. I guess to do something exciting.”

“We should head back,” I said, thinking of Blake and hoping he hadn’t made a mess of my room. “But what I was really asking was _what_ that meeting’s about.”

“Something dire, with any luck. Kell’s hoping to get Phillip for treason. Thinks he’s going to try and kill him, can you imagine? And all over a meeting that isn’t even set to happen yet.” Christina kept pace with me, seemingly engaged in what she had to say.

“God, they’re obsessed with meetings down here.”

“Meetings, suits, offices, and paperwork. And yet Hell barely functions. Have you ever been on trial here?”

“Is that a common problem?”

“No.” Christina rolled her eyes. “But like, Glenn? The head of the justice department? She breaks every known law whenever she pretends to be a lawyer. It’s seriously atrocious.”

“You’re friends with The Few though.” I pointed out. Most of the time the various members would gather up in Pride, but every now and again a group of them would sit at a table in Gluttony, like the popular kids in high school. Christina was always with them when they did this, sitting next to Kell and amicably conversing.

“Oh sure, but they’re all bastards, aren’t they?” Christina waved off my remark. “Except Lane. She’s too grandmotherly for me to feel comfortable insulting.”

“Right bastards, they are,” I said, though I had to admit I had spent a lot of hours paying attention to them. They were always on the news, the highlight of the week’s gossip. Seeing any of them in person, witnessing them eating lunch among the public... it was a lot more exciting than spotting a government official had any right to be.

But Hell wasn’t a place too great at fostering a celebrity culture, so the thirteen people who ruled over us all with absolute power were the only icons we could all agree on. Even if they were all bloodthirsty killers. Even if their whole zodiac theme was pretty silly.

“So there’s a mutiny.”

“Not quite. More like a backstabbing. Or honestly, an overreaction. The ring thing is new though. Can I look at the one she gave you?”

“It’s for Kell,” I said, though I took it out and let her huddle close to me as we examined it. The ring was heavy-set with an opal gem and ornate designs around the rim. It was wide and square, and in the concave of the interior was a thin soft lining, tied there by string.

“I don’t like this,” she said, “The man in that room... this... maybe I actually found something important.”

“Sydney probably wouldn’t have taken us there if it really was so top secret.”

“Maybe she’s just an idiot. Some people are.” Christina tried to take the ring, but I shoved it back into my pocket. “I think it’s an angel’s sword.”

“It’s nice they got it in teal. I’m sure Kell will appreciate it.” Kell had these shiny teal scales on his neck and wrists. Sometimes they’d fall off. I had once taken up the habit of keeping them, just because they were pretty, but then realized it was roughly the equivalent of owning a lock of his hair.

“It looks like one. I’ve noticed some of the others wearing rings like that too, and I don’t like the idea of it.” Christina looked lost in thought. “Hey, can I try it on?”

“If it is an angelsword, it’s not going to work for you,” I said. We were now taking the elevator back up to Greed. “Of course, it absolutely is one, but who cares?”

“Ugh. Mannie, you’re not much fun, you know that?”

“That’s a really steep insult from the likes of you.”

“Sorry!” She said, suddenly looking like she really meant it. “Can I try the ring?”

Feeling a little more emotionally impacted than I had planned, I gave in and handed her the ring. Withholding it had been pointless, but I enjoyed having an ounce of power over someone. Now she knew what I knew.

With a flick of her hand that suggested she had somehow done this before, Christina pulled a blade of light out of thin air a few seconds after slipping the ring on. With another couple of cautious jerks, she had split it in two, and held her twin white blades up in the narrow space of the elevator.

“Hm. Guess they’ve finally reverse engineered them.”

“They’re just rings.”

“They’re magic!”

“Magic isn’t real.”

Christina dropped the blades out of existence and gave me the ring back. “This is what I was talking about. You’re dedicated to being boring, aren’t you? Not the least bit surprised.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I’m bothered. If they start mass producing these, the angels are _fucked_.”

“That’s a good thing.”

Christina didn’t reply, and not much later the elevator arrived at Greed. I got out, and Christina continued to walk with me, though now in uncomfortable silence. I purposefully took a detour past the office, peering in to look for Kell before I rerouted back towards my dorm. She was still with me.

I stopped at the immaculate blue metal door to the dormitory, pausing and giving her an inquisitive look. She just slightly twitched and stared at me with heavy eyeliner bordered blue eyes.

“Uh,” I tried saying.

“Oh. I guess I don’t really need... to come this far. Sorry, I was thinking.”

“Okay,” I said, and just to be certain I waited outside the door, making sure she left my sight.

I went into the dark and delightfully green tiled hall of my dormitory until I came to my room. I opened the door and was greeted with the displeasuring sight of Blake asleep on my bed, one leg off the side and with a book by his head.

After shoving him onto the floor, I fixed my blankets and put the book back in its proper place atop the TV. Then I settled onto the bed and curled up, facing the wall.

“That really hurt,” Blake complained. I heard him get up off the floor. “Hey, are you trying to sleep now? What time is it?”

“Around one,” said a voice that was entirely not Blake, and I scoured my mind until I realized there had been something off about the room when I had first entered.

There was a shape in front of the TV, one I had fully seen and stepped by to put the book back, but then had proceeded to forget about entirely in my slight exhaustion. Stepping in my room, as it was the place where I normally when to sleep, always filled me with a sleepy sense. That was my excuse.

She was a bright eyesore of neon green hair and excessive black makeup. Right off the bat she reminded me of Christina- young and badly dressed- but they couldn’t look more different facially. Christina was thin and curvy, with a generic face like a B movie actress. This girl was weird looking, with eyes like apostrophes and a small mouth that felt like it deserved pointed teeth.

She grinned at me. “Hi.”

“Please don’t invite people into my room.” I blinked. Her hair really did burn something at the base of my eyes.

“This is Pepper,” Blake said, “Did you really expect me to sit on the floor the entire time?”

“I was only gone for a little over an hour,” I said. Something about Pepper bothered me, besides the glaringly obvious, but I couldn’t quite place what.

“That’s still quite a bit. I went for a short walk around the... circle, and then people watched. Bumped into her doing the same thing.”

“You’re not a demon,” I said.

“Fallen.” She nodded enthusiastically.

“What are you doing here?” I crossed my arms in an attempt to intimidate.

“Only here for the day!” She exclaimed. “It’s been a lot of fun though. So glamorous and shiny. I have a demon friend who needs me for the night, okay?”

The more she talked the more I could hear the slight nuance of an angelic accent on her. Fallen angels weren’t banned from Hell, but I didn’t know of any that were public about it.

“Please leave my room.”

“Mannie, are you planning to sleep at one in the afternoon?” Blake asked, his hands on his hips.

“...Maybe.”

I was. Chronic exhaustion is a bitch.

“That’s going to mess up your sleep cycle,” Blake said, “Look, you quit your job, right? Let’s just take that express elevator up to Earth and get going.”

“It’s not that simple. And I didn’t actually quit. Kell was out, so I ran a few errands with Christina.”

Right as Blake was saying ‘who’, Pepper bounced with excitement. “Oh, so you know Christina already?”

“Considering I didn’t say her last name, dubiously.”

“McKean?”

“Yeah, that’s the one. She the friend you kept mentioning?” I said, trying to sound bored. A lot of what I wanted to be perceived as included hiding as many of my emotions as I could. Unfortunately, this tended to make me both sound boring and be so.

“We live on Earth together, with my old friend Percy.” Pepper looked between me and Blake, nodding assuringly. She seemed to do that a lot, reminding me of an endearing alien. God, she was endearing- I wasn’t necessarily blind to how overpoweringly cute she was. Blake statistically was bound to have found her more so, he certainly seemed to have warmed up to her quick.

“So you already know this Christina?” Blake said politely to me.”I’ve heard a lot about her.

“She’s fine. But when you say old friend, you don’t happen to mean...”

“Non-fallen angel,” Pepper said, nodding some more, “Percy’s good though. Real nice. We were great friends before I fell, and he stops into our house to check up on me. At first, he was worried Christina was going to attack me! But now I think he is okay. He watches cooking shows with her.”

“Heaven sounds so _lovely_ ,” Blake said dreamily, “Pepper was telling me about how-”

“Please.” I waved off his words. “How is Percy being allowed to visit you? Shouldn’t he be felled for spending so much time unsupervised?”

“He’s an archangel!” Pepper said with glee, as if she had been waiting all this time to say this. “Right under the Brothers.”

“Of course.” I laid down on my back. “What are you doing with Christina in Hell later today?”

“Having dinner at the Blues and doing some karaoke.” Pepper didn’t sound the least bit self aware that that wasn’t what I had been asking for. “She’ll be here soon.”

“Here?” I sat up. “When?”

“Weren’t you just with her?” Blake said.

“Yeah, just-” Suddenly I felt very aware of my cramped space. Christina was many tiers above me in a wondrous multitude of ways, and I was going to be damned if I let her see how dusty my book collection was. I picked up the top book, _A complete biography of Alexander Phineus Scott the first_ , and began cleaning it by rubbing it on my shirt. This mostly ensured my shirt had dirt on it.

“Uhm. Few minutes.” Pepper held up her cell phone as proof of such. I cleaned the next book, A _n Examination of the Post-Sato economy._

“It’s rude to invite guests into someone else’s home.” I chided, moving onto flipping the dust out of the TV’s paper instruction manual.

“She’s very nice,” Pepper said, reassuringly, “Though I am doubtful she will fit.”

“Hey Mannie, do you have a phone?” Blake asked. “I want to add Pepper’s number so we can keep in touch.”

“No.” I rubbed clean the top of my final book, _Welcome to Hell_. Truly a classic. It was given to every new arrival. “My shirt is ruined.”

“You did just put an awful lot of dirt on it.”

At that moment, there was a knock at the door. Pepper leapt up and swung it open, revealing Christina.

“Oh. Hey,” she said.

“Hi.”

“Uh, let’s go.” She turned right around, shutting the door behind her once Pepper had stepped outside, eyeing me with some mild, unidentifiable emotion.

“Pepper gave me her home address, so when we get to Earth, we should make sure to visit.” Blake said.

“ _We?_ ” I curled back up on the bed, ready to crash into unconsciousness.

“...Or not.”

I fell asleep soon after, to the sounds of Blake breathing, and later, riffling through the pages of a book.

* * *

 

Pepper and Christina, then! Yay for side characters with brightly colored hair!


	4. Bookside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mannie and Blake finally move to leave Hell, but Mannie insists on a detour to the file room, suspicious of what is going on between Christina, Kell, and Pepper.

I was proud of myself for waking up the next morning at nine, bright, ready, and as always, slightly sore. My bed was bad and bodies really aren’t supposed to sleep for as long as I had learned to.

Blake was weary and stiff, but continued to obey, and after watching the morning’s gossip and eating breakfast, I walked him to the cross section of offices and half lights that housed my office.

I stared at the doorway. Above it was a little libra sign, the part of the zodiac that had be appropriated to Kell’s position. It was a bit more forbidding than it had any right to be.

He wasn’t technically an accountant, it seems necessary to note- his proper title was ‘executive of finances’ or something, and his proper job was managing Hell’s fragile economy. A lot was managed in-house, but Hell still needed to import a lot of their food and almost all their material goods. This was significantly difficult to achieve, and Kell’s job involved traveling around Earth to various rich families Hell had a demon in, making sure the money kept flowing and various world governments kept off Hell’s tail.

Calling him an accountant was a bit of a joke. I’m not sure what else we’d call him. Important seemed to be one word for it.

After taking a few steps forward, I paused, and looked to Blake behind me.

He raised his eyebrows. “As wonderfully exciting as this morning has been, I’m disappointed to learn you’re going to just shuttle me back to your room again. That is what that look is for, right?”

He was correct. I wanted to have this conversation with Kell in private. Whenever that was going to be, of course. I dropped off a grumpy Blake to my room, promised him it’d be the last time he’d have to stay there, and went to Kell’s office.

Christina was sitting at her desk, and Kell was absent. “Hey Mannie,” Christina said. “Kell’s at lunch. You should try coming here at a different time of day.”

“It’s way too early for lunch.”

“He said he was going out for lunch. I think it might be codeword for ‘having a secret meeting’, but usually it’s around lunch time, so I can’t really say.”

“When will he be back,” I said dully.

“Eh,” Christina responded.

“Right.”

“I haven’t seen him this morning, so he could just be lying as an excuse for being late.”

“He’s been claiming to have been at lunch since eight? Kell is so...”

“Like I said, it’s probably some secret thing. Or else just a really bad hangover.”

“Ugh. This is really slowing my plans down.”

“What are your plans?” Christina asked with genuine interest.

“Quitting.”

“Oh yeah, right. Kell’s a pretty understanding guy, you know, he’d probably be fine with you just writing him an email. Besides, you don’t technically... work for him...?”

“That’s why I want to do it in person.” I nervously knocked on the wall, a bit jittery with built up energy. I had a lot of patience for waiting, but only when it was expected. “I’ll wait here.”

“Okay.” Christina shrugged, and soon focused again on her computer. I sat on the floor by Kell’s desk, and stared straight ahead. This lasted for an hour and seventeen minutes, right until I heard footsteps outside the door.

Kell entered, looking exhausted enough that I briefly considered Christina’s hangover theory. “Mannie.” He examined me with heavy eyes. “I need to speak with Christina in private.”

“Do you? I have to speak with you in private.”

His eyes slowly panned between the two of us. “Can Christina be here for it.”

“Has something happened?” I asked him.

“I have to discuss a serious matter with Christina. Please, Mannie.”

“I take it I’m not a serious matter then?” Kell pulled a face that made it clear he didn’t have patience for me right now, and I sighed, “I’m quitting.”

“Your job?”

“Yes.”

“Well, at least that was quick.” Kell gave a sarcastic smile and stood up, gathering a few papers on his desk. “Now get out.”

“Aren’t you angry? Upset? ...Mildly irritated?”

“Are you done?” He raised his eyebrows in a way that suggested I ought to get going.

“No,” I said, “This isn’t it. How it should go.”

“You don’t have to throw a fit every time something doesn’t go how you thought it would, you know.” He dismissed me with a wave of his hand.

“I-”

“ _Mannie_.” Christina warned, and I backed out of Kell’s office.

Sometimes I felt like an idiot for allowing myself to get caught up in my emotions. And often I’d find a certain shame in anything petty I let myself indulge in. So I was truly and honestly embarrassed to say that I didn’t want to go because I wanted Kell to care a little bit more that I was leaving.

Not like a teary, heartfelt goodbye. That was never going to happen. But, you know, some sort of fist shake at the heavens, some dangerous parting words. He didn’t even have to remember my name, years from now. Just _something_.

“This is serious.” I insisted.

“Get going already.” Kell said with a smile. “We have actual business to attend to.”

“But-”

“I get it. You’re quitting your job. Congratulations, Mannie.”

 

I ran back to my room in a hurry. Time to grab Blake and get going. Kell would be impressed with me once he saw me on the news. Would I be on the news at some point? Probably?

There was still dirt on my clothes from cleaning all those books, and the state of my clothes further degenerated when I again fell down a few feet from my dorm. Someone grabbed me by the arm and lifted me back up.

“Found you!” A woman said, and it took me a second to recognize the voice as belonging to Sydney.

“Don’t you have work to do?”

“What, you’re asking about my job? I’m a military general. Only time I work is when I’m deployed to the battleground.” I was about to question that idea when Sydney spoke again. “Anyways, I’m super bored. You seem like a sneaky type. Getting into mischief and all that. I could probably help, having full security clearance and all that.”

“I’d prefer for you to leave me alone.”

“Yeah, whatever, I wasn’t asking. You work for Kell, right? Let’s head there right now.”

She grabbed my arm to pull me back in the direction I had come from. “I was just there. Not returning anytime ever. Plus, he’s busy having some dire meeting with his secretary.”

“ _Her?_ Ah, Christina McKean? They’re having a serious meeting? On what?”

“I don’t know. I mean, she’s terrible anyway. She thinks she’s the center of the fucking world since she lives with some angel.”

“Angel?” Sydney raised her eyebrows. “Non-fallen?”

“Yeah, some guy named Percy. The two of them are evidently friends or something, and now she thinks she has the right to fear for her life.”

Sydney seemed to be half questioning my words and half very, very curious about them. “That’s a crime, you know. Glenn’ll stick about two life sentences just for conversing with an angel. And then send you out as bait on the battlefield,” she said quietly, and then let go of my arm, “I’ll leave you be, but I’ll be back for you tomorrow. We can hang out then.”

I made sure she ran off before I went to my dorm.

“You could’ve just left me outside the door, you know.” Blake got off my bed. I would have remarked on his aggressive rule breaking, but it wasn’t like I was going to be sleeping there again. I gathered my collection of collectables- pens, coins, and still a single pretty scale from Kell.

“How fast of a walker are you?” I asked Blake, stepping back outside.

“Aren’t we just taking some express elevator out of here? I distinctly remember you mentioning something like that, and while I’ll admit I’m having a ball looking at all these cute and fuzzy demons, I’d be happiest back on Earth.”

“Something’s caught my eye,” I said.

“Oh, you really don’t do ‘mysterious’ well, do you?”

“Shut up. There’s something going on between Christina, Kell, and Pepper, and I want to know what it is. Just going to swing by the file room and see if there’s anything there.”

“How long of a detour is that?”

“Depends on how fast you walk.”

I started walking as fast as my short little legs would carry me, just to prove my point. Blake easily ambled beside me, seemingly amused. “So what exactly is ‘the file room’? I mean, besides the obvious. Anything you can inform a young tourist like me on?”

“It’s a lot of files up in the Alexander library in Envy. Logan Doyle is in charge of watching it when he isn’t on duty, and with my luck, he will be.”

“Whoah, is this illegal?”

“No, I just hate him.”

He was an old and stocky guy. Once I had swung by the library to check it out, and he had been present in the maze of shelves. I tried to avoid crossing his path, figuring he was someone also interested in reading, but it turned out he was actively seeking me out-

And then he found me. And managed to shift a conversation on the book he was holding straight into his entire life story, which I sat through stone faced. God, he got right into it, incorporating hand gestures to help illustrate this tragic tale of how he sold his soul for strength and ended up killing a bunch of shit by touch.

I had taken a few steps back from him and nodded a little. He continued to regale himself with his tale, and once or twice I nodded. I don’t think he noticed.

“I’m starting to notice a trend in your personal relationships.”

I didn’t have the dignity to respond to that.

There was an elevator to Envy, but it wasn’t a very long walk, and just because I was a spiteful beast I made Blake walk it with me. Along the way, he seemed to hum with energy, though he made sure to mention how hungry he was every few minutes.

At some point he started talking, and it didn’t stop, “I feel like Hell’s really lived up to my expectations so far. I just worry it’s lacking creativity. It’s almost too close to what I’ve thought it would be. Like, where’s the unknowable anguish? The terrible things beyond human comprehension? So far it’s really more like a TV spot on what Hell is _going_ to be like. You demons aren’t even that scary. I’ve even seen a few who look downright adorable- cat ears and big fluffy tails and the like. I mean, what am I supposed to be scared of? I just want to give them a little pat on the head. I’ve been more scared at a haunted house run by a bunch of drunk teenagers.”

“I’m not sure we’re supposed to be scary.”

“Yeah, I’m getting that. And no offense, but you and everyone else are very human around here.”

“At some point, it’ll hit you that none of us are. But you’re right, it’s pretty... stupid.”

“It’s interesting.” Blake stretched, wringing his hands around his neck. “I’m only now getting that you name all your floors after sins. It’s so dramatic! You work in Greed- I mean, try saying ‘I work in Greed’ without sounding a like a cheesy drama film. You just can’t do it.” He laughed. “But you just, file taxes I guess? I never really got what being an accountant was. Wrath is for suffering and Envy is a library... is there subtle link between names and their floors, or is it all just a marketing move?”

“I think the guy who named it was trying to have some fun.”

“You know, if I was a dictator, that’s what I’d do too,” Blake said thoughtfully, “You are run by a dictator, right?”

“Oligarchy.”

“Not so different from the surface then, eh?” He clicked his tongue and shot me finger guns. “You know what? I’m sorry. I am just really not funny. There is a reason comedy was never a viable path for my life to head down. But then again, who would’ve guessed damnation?”

“We’re here,” I said, stopping at the doors to the library. On the outside was its proper, name in frosted text on the window- since for some reason, the library did have windows. It was a nice touch, offering a slightly blurry glance into a cathedral-esque labyrinth of literature, but also seemed like a pointless expense.

“I see that. But you never answered my hypothetical ques- Whoah.”

I got a little kick out of Blake’s surprise. Envy was actually amazing. Amazingly _needless_ , mind you, but lovely to look at.

More books than I think anyone knew what to do with lined every wall. Instead of something that made sense, shelves of various sizes were at random angles throughout the already giant room. Many of them were metal, or else assembled from many parts, but there was a surprising number of real wooded bookcases here, tall and embellished.

The outer rim of the library had shelves going up for three stories, with a narrow black scaffolding hanging precariously in the air for anyone who wanted to risk it. There was no real entrance to the place, just a start- in all honestly, we weren’t _technically_ allowed in here without explicit permission.

“Is there some sort of organization to this place?”

“I only know that if you keep walking straight, you can eventually reach the other side and get to the files,” I said, leading the way, “Also, if you yell a lot a child will occasionally tell you to stop from somewhere in the room.”

“Like an actual kid? Hey, can demons have kids?”

“Yeah, though god knows what one is doing down here.”

Sometimes I wanted to wander these shelves and find out how many of the books here were repeats. They were collected from every cycle, biographies with slight changes and bundles of newspapers from every country.

“So this file room has info on every demon?” Blake asked.

“You’re very curious today.”

“Most days I try to be. I think it was my new year’s resolution a few years ago.”

“Yes, all the demons, all the buildings, all the humans.”

“Oh! Hey! Me! My memory’s actually super foggy. Can we check out my file too? I know I was at college, and I can sort of remember my mom and my sisters but... a lot of stuff seems weird. I can’t even remember what I sold my soul for in the first place.”

“If I can find it, I will.”

“Thanks. I think I had a coin collection.”

“Telling me these things does nothing to help.”

“My girlfriend’s name was Amy, and I was writing this book about... oh god, I forget! Man, that book was going to be my ticket into the big leagues, and now I’ll never finish it!”

“I think you should be more concerned about telling your parents that you’re back from the dead.”

“Oh. Forgot about that part.” He chuckled. “Seems like less of a big deal in some ways.”

“I don’t get that.”

“Yeah, it’s okay. I’m not sure it’s a legitimate thing to feel.”

I had the dullest sort of sense of repetition as I navigated towards the opposite wall. I’d been here once before, just to check, and I’d occasionally feel like I recognized something.

We arrived at the file room, another real wood door that looked right at home in the library, with smoky glass and a printed sign in front that kicked up some sense of nostalgia within me.

Inside was dim, lit by a hanging bulb that didn’t quite work. A sleek modern computer sat on the desk, screensaver running. Beside it was an ancient computer and a giant pile of dirty files. The rest of the room was file cabinets and loose files, and everything smelt like microwave pizza.

“You’re good with computers. Can you find Christina’s file?” I said.

“What makes you assume that?” He asked, as he sat down.

“You’re young.”

He made sure to turn around so I could see his expression after that remark. He woke the screen up, and it already seemed to be on some sort of catalog- a few keystrokes and he had brought up a plain text file labeled with Christina’s name.

I leaned over his shoulder and read. Right off the bat there was something weird with her- no listed cubi or hellhound. Those were on every file, the succubus or incubus who made the soul sell possible and the hellhound who harvested. No one _didn’t_ have one.

A few paragraphs down related why: it had been a rogue dealing, some nasty bastard who killed her family for fun and then forced her to sell her soul. I wasn’t quite sure how you could get any real kicks from that, but this guy evidently enjoyed himself. A few months later, a hellhound came for her.

She had filed reports on who she said had attacked her, but there were no leads.

“Hey, she’s really young.”

“Hm.” I continued reading. So far, nothing of note. These files were both a short, required history and one’s personal record. She had a couple notes from her introductory therapist, as well as from Kell.

At the very bottom were the most recent inclusions. All from Kell, he noted that he had given her charge of a house on Earth- some private meeting place The Few frequented. She had taken in two house mates, much to his disapproval, both noted as fallen angels.

Percy was described as a tall, blonde man with a haphazard understanding of human fashion. Kell had a couple concerns about him, but the doc soon ended, leaving me no better off.

“Search the database for Percy.”

“You’re a very fast reader.” Blake did as I requested. “...And I’m a total idiot for not realizing that wouldn’t work. This is just a list of everyone named ‘Percy’ in Hell.”

“Can you look for something on the ‘Brothers of Blood’?”

“Who are they?” Blake asked, typing. “...Uh, looks like there is something. But it’s-”

It was just the words ‘coming soon’.

“Michael Lexington.”

“Should I ask who that is, or is it not worth the effort?” There was again just one file and two words. ‘See me’. “Are we going to be launching down that particular side quest then? I kind of want-”

“Get your own file. The other thing... isn’t important.”

“Thanks.” A few clicks later: “Nothing’s here. Is it still in paper? Should I be worried?”

“You’re too new to not be in the computer. There might be something wonky with you that you’re not aware about. Cycles tend to fuck with things, I don’t know, maybe you’re-”

Interrupting the both of us was a sharp knock on the door.


	5. Even in death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sydney rattles some bones and Mannie finally, officially, quits her job

“And hello!” In a blur of green, Sydney was upon us. “I took the day off. Well, technically I didn’t- I’m not allowed to. But as luck has it, I’m part of The Few and there’s only twelve people in all of Hell who can undermine my authority.”

“Who’s this?” Asked Blake. I had forgotten he hadn’t met Sydney.

“Ah, this must be the human kid you took from Wrath. How interesting! I’m Sydney, Ms. Westman to you, and I’ll be joining you for your shenanigans today.”

“Oh! I didn’t know you had any friends, Mannie. That’s great!”

“You’re too excited about this. Sydney’s not my friend, I literally met her yesterday. She’s not coming with us, she’s going to tell us how she found us, why she’s here, and then she’s going to leave.”

“I’m going to ignore that tone of voice you’re using and instead point out that as your superior, I have authority to order you to take me along. And if you don’t comply, I could always just arrest you.”

“I don’t mind you coming along, Ms. Westman,” said Blake.

“You don’t need to call her Ms. Westman, Blake. Or be polite to her at all.”

“I’m not going to be rude to a total stranger.”

“Fantastic! Looks like we’re settling in. So what are you brats doing digging through this trash heap? Breaking two laws already, so off to a good start.”

Blake shrugged, “I’m not really certain. Mannie just wanted to look at some files, and I wanted to find mine. Except it isn’t here.”

“ _Huh_.” Sydney put enough emphasis on sounding puzzled that I wasn’t surprised by what she said next. “The reason for that, I’ll admit, is because I have your file. Looked it up and took it down the moment I heard Mannie had taken you from your cell.”

“Why would you do that?”

“I wanted to know if there was anything about you that’d prompt such a move. And the answer is no! I have it up in my apartment if you want to drop by some time. I’ll make tea.”

“How did you find me here?” I asked.

“Mannie, dear, you’re rather _protective_ over your identity, aren’t you? I’d rethink my life choices in that case. Hell is covered in cameras. Even if we don’t quite care about the rules, we are dedicated to watching them get broken.”

“Blake, let’s get moving.”

“Okay.” He got up and followed me past where Sydney was standing. She immediately turned and followed as well. “What do you have against Ms. Westman anyway?”

“Something about her rubs me the wrong way. And I met her yesterday. I don’t trust people that quickly.”

“I met you yesterday.”

“Yes, and...? Blake, do you honestly think we’ve bonded in that time?”

Blake was silent. After a beat, Sydney spoke. “Wow. How do you put up with this? You poor child.”

“Mannie’s working on saving me, so I try not to mind the snappy remarks.”

“Where to next, leader?” Sydney asked me.

“Going to check if Kell’s done with his meeting,” I grumbled.

“Oh, you do sound cranky. _Sorry_.” Sydney was clearly having an absolute ball.

We went on. I couldn’t really ignore her, and she was entirely right that she had the power to arrest us. And I couldn’t have that. I decided to just comply with her and look for an opportunity to lose her the next chance I got.

Blake, of course, was being dumb and making conversation. “So what do you do as military personnel?”

“Kill birds, what do you expect? I don’t do any direct killing, but I have been responsible for many. Currently I have the most kills indirectly under my name ever achieved, by anyone, ever.”

“By ‘birds’ you mean angels right? So the angels are evil? It sort of goes against the ideas you hear on Earth. I mean, they’re supposed to be all holy and divine.”

“Nah, angels are the real scum. We kill as many of them as we can, with good reason. It can take up to thirty men to kill one, losing at least half in the process. Or, it _used_ to take.” She had a voice well suited to boasting. “See, since I gained power, things have changed. We can just send in maybe five men and get the job done. Won’t be long until we’ve backed them birds into a corner.”

“What did you do that changed things around so much? It must be something really crazy to be responsible for saving all those lives. Not like I’m really into the killing part, but I mean, if they take so many of your own...”

“Ah, ha, you flatter me kid. I can’t say what I did though, it’s a top-secret project. We still haven’t got it one hundred percent perfect yet.”

“The rings,” I said.

“Well, yeah.” Sydney seemed surprised that I had spoken. “But no need to spoil the kid on that.”

“What rings?” Blake asked.

I fished Kell’s out of my pocket and held it up for him. “This is an angelsword. It’s a magical ring that, went worn, allows an angel to summon a powerful weapon. Closest thing to magic out there. Sydney’s found a way to make them work for demons too.”

“Sounds like it _is_ magic.”

“No such thing.”

“You say that, a demon in Hell, to a human who had to die to get here.”

About halfway to Greed, Sydney’s phone began to ring. She ran off to the far wall and leaned back, flashing us a finger to imply this would only take a minute.

“Hey, bye!” I said, walking ahead.

“It’s only going to take a few minutes,” said Sydney.

“I’m just glad you’re leaving.”

She flashed a sour look, and I sped up the pace, skittering on the uneven surface of the tunnel floor.

“I can entirely understand why you have so few friends.”

“And I continue to be your way out of here.”

“So far we’ve been fine and fancy about everything. Who’s stopping me from getting out of here.” He stood still as if to illustrate his point. “No one cares that a human is loose.”

“Believe what you want.” Before I got too far away, he ran up to keep in pace.

“I need to talk to Kell one more time, and then I’m getting you out of here. Hundred percent.”

“We’ll see, but thanks for promising again.”

Blake was walking very close to me and looking up occasionally in such a way that I instantly knew he wanted to talk with me about something important. He was no doubt having his own internal monologue. God knows what he was thinking about though.

I think he wanted me to break the silence, but he gave up by the time we crossed the threshold into Greed. “I didn’t want to talk about it around Ms. Westman, but what she said about the angels... well, being evil and all. I thought it made sense at first. Pepper is a fallen angel and is super sweet, so she must be really different from all the non-fallens, right? But she spoke so highly of Heaven and of Percy that I’m not so sure.”

“Who knows? It’s not really our business to get involved.”

“I don’t like the idea of war. And I especially don’t like the idea of a war where the sides don’t know anything about their enemies besides how to kill them.”

“What can you do about it? It’s too big to risk getting tangled up in. Just let them be.”

“It shouldn’t be that hard to prove they don’t need to fight. What are they even fighting over?”

“I think you’re forgetting that this isn’t any war. This is the war between angels and demons. Their whole existence is bent on destroying each other. Look, if it helps, the angels actually _are_ a threat to Hell- they want to kill everyone, so soldiers _have_ to be sent to stop them.”

“See? It’s simple. There’s just a misunderstanding. If the angels were to just see that Hell isn’t that bad, they would stop trying to kill everyone and this could stop.”

“Hell isn’t that bad? Are you forgetting that you were locked up in solitary and experimented on for no reason down in Wrath?”

“Yeah, that was pretty... unpleasant. But that’s just Wrath. Since I left, it all seems ok.”

“I don’t get you.” We had arrived back at the office, and Blake stayed outside the door. “I just don’t.”

My coworkers’ glared at me as I passed. I had never liked any of them, which was good, seeing as none of them cared for me. A white haired guy named Fletcher seemed ready to say something, but he kept his mouth shut.

I’d never really understood him, or the others, or people in general. Maybe when I was younger I had, but I’d lost that grip on socialization as I had aged. Others always saw me as haughty and rude, with no regard for jovial chats and a strange lack of friendships. Kell was my friend, I think.

We got along.

He liked to talk to me whenever I’d sit on my desk, and the way he asked questions implied he cared about at least one of the answers. Answering questions was my absolute hobby, not out of egotism- just because I found it fun.

“It’s been a few years, and I’ve yet to see you cozy up to anyone,” he had said, implying a question over a hot cup of coffee.

I had my own glass. “Don’t care for anyone around here.”

“Is there someone up in Pride that you at least visit? I could imagine you settling into a bookstore cafe over some over priced drink.”

“Do I seem like the type?” I had made a face of disgust.

“What, the dating or the hipster attitude?” Kell had looked absolutely delighted by how much the subject made me squirm. This feeling really did suit his face best- he looked like a fox, grinning before a meal. But not in some creepy sexual sense, where I was the meal. We didn’t work like that. The conversation was.

“All. I love having friends-”

“Mm, wouldn’t have guess that-”

“But I’ll be dead before I get _cozy_.”

“You aro ace then?” He took a long, hot sip.

“What?”

“Aromantic asexual.”

“No. I don’t know either of those words.”

He had explained them to me. But labels like that never really made sense to me, entering my life too late to matter. Kell was open to me about this sort of thing, I guess viewing me as one of his peers in the world of excess labels. He was bisexual, and liked to detail to me his struggles in the world of romantics. I generally made a point of sighing loudly.

“I know I’ve felt romantic love before, but it’s like I’ve run out. Maybe I never felt something to begin with.” He once told me, monologuing over a hot cup of coffee. I groaned in protest. “I never feel sure.”

“You’re so fucking old. Get it together already.”

“That’s the point- I’m old and alone.”

“It’s time to stop worrying then.”

That ended it. He was the kind of guy who didn’t tell anyone about his sexuality but the people who knew it from experience. And me, for some reason. In this day and age, no one really cared about sexuality. God, Hell was the gayest place I’d been in, having grown up in a tiny, kinda homophobic town. The fact Kell was still so sensitive boggled me.

He had stopped talking about these sorts of things when Christina came to share the office.

Which was nice.

“Hey,” I said, entering the room. Kell was propping his head up with his elbow, looking at something on his computer screen. Hie eyes lazily met mine as I sat down across from his desk.

“You’re back. Unemployment not faring you well?”

“I just wanted to talk to you properly.”

“Not a good time. I’m more stressed than before,” he said softly, going into that voice he only used when he was with me, like he needed to tread carefully.

“It can be quick. I just want to make sure that you know- t-that I’m leaving.”

“So. What is it you want again?” Kell asked.

“Some form of emotion. Real dramatic.”

“I have no idea how to go about conveying that. Look, I think I know what you’re really asking for- attention, right? Some validation maybe? Some reassurance that whatever silly thing you’ve dedicated yourself to now is indeed a big important deal?” He rubbed his eyes. “I can’t help you there. Just tell me what you want to hear, and I’ll say it.”

“I want you to say what you feel.”

“Tired.”

My voice caught in my throat. “Just-”

“I’ll be sorry to see you go.”

“Okay. That’s enough.”

“Thank you,” he sighed.

And I guess that was it.


	6. Libra

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We learn a few last important bits of worldbuilding, and a security blockade causes delays.

“We have to take the elevator up to Pride, and then transfer to the pit line to get out of here,” I said to Blake as we walked through Greed.

“The ‘pit line’? I’m going to be very literal and assume you guys have a giant pit at one end of it.”

“The only end, really. There’s three elevator lines, one between floors, one that splits the place into thirds, and then... one to the pit. We have to take it to Earth.”

“You know that you have to tell me a little more than that.”

“There’s two Earths.”

“Fantastic,” Blake said, pulling a face like he had long come to accept everything weird about Hell.

“One Earth is in the present, where we are. Heading up to the surface brings you there. It’s also where Heaven is, and is entirely desolate.”

“Now, that’s not _quite_ the Earth I know and love, but okay. What level of desolate do you mean? Post-apocalyptic wasteland or scattered, archaic ruins death zone?”

“There’s no one left but the trees and angels,” I explained. “Which is why we need to jump through a rift at the bottom of the pit. It’ll take us to the Earth you’re from- the past, stuck on a nineteen year cycle. At the end of which- about a week from now, actually- the Earth resets again.”

“Can you maybe offer some reasoning as to why this is a thing? What went wrong?”

“Hell doesn’t know why the cycles exist. There’s been nine of them, but... most of how they work, or why they exist, is a mystery. Still, Earth is there, and that’s where we want to go.”

“Well, what happens after the end of the cycle?”

“Like I said: full reset. Everyone goes back in time to May fifth, nineteen years previous. No one remembers but the demons.”

“You know, it’s weird how I’d just about accepted Hell for everything it was, hellfire and office culture and the like. But suddenly you throw this curveball at me and I’m like- well, you toss me into a supernatural world and then present me with something sci-fi. Little off balancing!”

“There’s not much technological about it.”

“Still! Time travel!”

“Just... time.”

“Ugh.”

We came to the lobby area of Greed and I tapped the button for the executive elevator. I guess not working for Kell meant I should have seceded my right to use this thing, but man, I was too much of a sucker for glitz to do that.

Blake gave a nervous wave to the doorman. “Hey.”

He was a frightening looking guy, I guess, the type who kept all of his non cumbersome demon bits exposed, meaning he had a soft green hue to his skin and three sets of jagged horns. His tongue was white and his teeth were like those of a deep sea fish.

Still, he looked silly in his golden buttoned and tasseled uniform. I’d never actually spoken with him before, but I’d grown fond of how the dull green scales on his hands contrasted with his bright red clothes.

“Don’t speak to him while he’s working.” I batted Blake’s hand out of the air as I took my customary place in the center of the shining elevator, back straight.

“Just trying to be polite.” Blake nervously looked at the doorman, who continued to be an absolute professional and stand by the door.

The elevator stopped at Lust, and I moved over for whoever to get inside. However, no one came, and the doorman was keeping the doors wide open.

“Pride.” I reminded. “Not Lust.”

The doorman nodded sadly.

Blake, meanwhile, peered outside. “There’s something going on down the hall, like a huge crowd is gathered and there’s two of those big wolf demons.”

“Oh god. Hellhounds.” I looked out and confirmed my suspicions. “Come on. It’s a security checkpoint. We have to pass through and take the next elevator up. Might as well _walk_ to Pride from here.”

Several hundred people, more than I’d ever seen hang out in the inter-level passage beyond rush hour in Pride, were waiting in a haphazard line that filled the entire width of the hall. Taller than everyone were two hellhounds, who sat on either side, tails whipping about. Just in case.

This was going to take hours, but until everyone was through, there was no way around it. I wondered who they were expecting to catch? Hell had a pretty low rate of violent crime, so it had to be someone interesting.

“Is this going to be a problem?” Blake asked. “My uh, whole thing?”

“Probably not, but I don’t have my ID on me. I can probably get through if I... if this wasn’t such a high level search I could probably get us through on word alone, but two hellhounds probably means they’re out for a murderer. Maybe a serial killer! Hell hasn’t had a good one of those in a _long_ time.”

“You sound a little too psyched about that.”

“Besides the killing bit, it is all good fun.” I reached into my pocket and brought out the angelsword. “As long as it’s obvious I’m not threatening them, this thing should solve all our problems. Except you being human.”

“Wasn’t I already slated to die in a few days? What could they possibly do to me?”

“Actually kill you in a few days?”

“Right.”

“Stick with me. and you should be _fine_.” I started making my way through the crowd, scooting through the thicket of people. A little bit into what felt like a jungle- man, I was short- I realized I had left Blake somewhere behind.

I turned around and found him at the end of the line. “Let’s just wait, politely, like lawful citizens.”

“With this ring, I can basically claim to be anything I want and people will move right over. You’re not from here-”

“Be _quiet_ about that-”

“-So you don’t really get how freaked out everyone is by the angels. You could sell an angel’s shirt to someone for a bundle of cash just for them to burn.”

“I’m also scared of crowds.”

“Agoraphobia?”

“More like claustrophobia.”

“In that case, suck it up kid. This isn’t a dark enclosed tunnel.”

He stared at me flatly.

“Well at least it’s well lit!” Blake didn’t seem amused, so I frowned and grabbed his hand, pulling him forward into the crowd. I had no problem pushing people aside to make my way towards the checkpoint, ignoring their judgmental gazes, but Blake kept apologizing with his head down.

When I got maybe two lines of people away from the gate, a security guard split the line and walked up to me. “End of the line. No exceptions.”

I showed the ring, which I had suitably slipped onto my ring finger. “I have to deliver this to Kell. And you do know what this _is_ , right?”

The guard cooly turned her head, and then looked back to me. Before I could react, she slipped the large ring off my finger and held it in her palm. “In that case, I’ll bring it to him. Back of the line to you.” She walked back through the checkpoint.

“Is he there? Tell him Mannie could use his help! And that he likely owes me one!” I called after her, while I could feel Blake tugging on my arm to turn around.

I let him drag me back to the end of the line. “We’ll just wait. Like normal civilians of Hell, which is what both of us are.” He was obviously blushing, and still pretty clammy from the whole ordeal.

The line moved pretty fast, meaning they were most likely just checking bags and ID. Still, the crowd was thick, and it was absolutely going to be over an hour before we got anywhere. I passed time by kicking at the slightly sandy floor and thinking up ways to get through.

“Kell’s boyfriend runs Lust,” I said. His name was Kelsey, and Kell wasn’t really dating him. They’d been together for years though previously, and were still best friends. Due to Kell’s habit of thoughtlessly describing to me his love life, I knew they were still a little bit more than that.

“What do you guys even do in, er, ‘Lust’?”

“Manage and report sales.”

“Which is...? You should know better than to leave me hanging like this.”

“Soul selling. Kelsey doesn’t like me, but if we get him, he can get me to Kell...”

“And how are we supposed to get to him? Just give it up and wait. We’re nearly there, and we can ask to call Kell’s office or something to get approval to go through.”

I kicked at the wall, trying to see if I could dislodge a tile with the edge of my shoe. I surveyed the crowd again, seriously not willing to wait another hour. “Can you hold my spot?”

“How about you just sit still?”

“You’re still supposed to be obeying my orders.” I scurried through the crowd again, and looked for something that might help. After only a minute of searching, I gave up, and went back to Blake.

As I was walking dejected back to where he was standing, I saw a familiar shade of green emerging from the elevator. The moment I confirmed it was Sydney, my face fell. Hers seemed to rise with elation.

“Mannie, my mischievous miniature... oh, I don’t know. Minesweeper? Minivan? What’s this mess about?”

“Se-” Blake started to say.

Sydney laughed rudely. “Just kidding! I’m the one who called for it.” She winked with more zest than most people wink with. “See you dudes later.”

“Can you get us past this? I’m in a hurry.”

“Oh dear.” She turned around, and just from her saccharine voice alone I knew she wasn’t going to be of much use. She gripped both my shoulders with nails like claws. “Do you remember what the last thing I said to you was?”

I kept quiet, waiting for her to finish her own hypothetical.

She kept staring at me.

“I want an answer here.”

“Don’t be a such a bitch.” I groaned.

She immediately retreated her hands, and scoffed. “ _Bitch?_ Do you even know know how problematic and demeaning to women that is? I’m offended now. I’m not letting you through now for certain, as you have truly _bested_ me with your snappy remarks and vaguely sexist language.” She laughed, and walked off.

“What’s her problem?” I huffed. “I barely know her!”

“Some people are a little off. It’s best to not provoke them.”

“ _She’s_ the only who was provoking _me_.”

“I know.”

I watched as Sydney easily parted the crowd and passed through security, and resigned to my fate of waiting. No one else was particularly happy around us either, and some were using this time to bond, chatting every so often about how inconvenient this was.

It wasn’t like there was a deadline to me getting to Earth, but since I now had this human in tow, later probably _was_ better.

Waiting is awful, though. Half an hour passed, and we shuffled forward. Finally, at a point where my mind had receded into only apathetic thoughts of dirt and floor panels, Kell happened along from our side, emerging from the elevator like Sydney had. He walked calmly forward as people moved aside for him, and when he failed to notice me, I lightly tapped on his shoulder when he passed by.

“Oh.”

“Can you let us through?” I said, feeling like I was begging.

“You’re nearly there already.” He scratched at his neck. “And besides, aren’t you supposed to be out of my hair?”

“Soon.” I looked down, more ashamed than I should have been. Something about needing anything from anybody made me upset. Needing something from Kell especially made me feel even more pathetic. He was the type of guy many people needed many things from, and my constant desire to be _important_ demanded I not be one of them.

“Here,” He said, briefly grabbing my forearm before letting go. The actual physical contact made me more light headed than it should have been. I don’t know, I tended to get weird around Kell.

Kell brought us through the checkpoint in the same amount of time that it took him to walk through. Just a wave of his hand and some steps on our behalf, and it was done.

“Are you okay, Mannie? You look sick.”

“I’m fine.” I was having a hard time meeting his gaze. He had the nicest, greenest eyes too, which made looking at him all the worse. Oh god, was I blushing? Was that noticeable? I was probably a lot paler than I should’ve been from these years in Hell, and I hoped I hadn’t reached the point where my blush was actually a serious pink.

“Good luck then.” Oh man. He grabbed my shoulder lightly, and smiled, though I saw it fall as he turned around and walked away.

It wasn’t like I had a crush on him, or anything as dumb as that. I don’t like labels, but I also know I don’t like sex. It’s gross. I don’t want it. Kissing disgusts me too, especially when tongues get involved. And bodies are so sweaty, and hairy, and... gross.

Kell was just nice to me, and treated me kindly, and he was a super cool guy I guess. And a terrible bastard, and an asshole.

But you know. A friendly guy. The sort you wanted to like you.

* * *

 

A Mannie. I don't really have any good pictures of Kell, which is a major shame as I do love him.

Here is colin ferell from that fantastic beasts movie- I feel weird putting a photo in here, but the whole time I was watching I was like 'oh boy, a good Kell faceclaim'. Slight differences- I think of Kell as having a sharper nose, slightly longer hair for sideburns/back as opposed to the pidgeotto swoop Graves has here, but he's a good place to start when it comes to good lookin' older guys.


	7. Goner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mannie and Blake reach the city of Pride, and move to finally leave Hell.

“Next elevator up and we’re clear,” I said to Blake, once I had made sure Kell was out of sight. “We might as well walk to Pride though at this point. It’s probably just ten minutes up from here.”

“There’s a chance something ridiculous could happen during that period of time that would drive us off our path.”

“Sure, but Pride’s pretty cool.”

“Are you planning something? Can you save it until I’m gone? Really, if you have business to attend to, go ahead, just give me instructions and send me on my way.”

“You need me to get through security.”

“Yeah, like you so expertly managed to do back there,” Blake said, “Sorry, that was rude. I know you’re trying.”

“Fine. We’ll be lazy about this. Have to pass through Pride either ways.”

Lust was actually more annexed off of the main hall than some of the other floors, contained behind a single uninteresting door farther down the hall. This close to the city the inter-level passage was delightfully complete, with working, non-florescent lights and a decisively square shape. Every two hundred feet or so, however, was still an ugly grey maintenance hatch.

A few tiring loops up from the security checkpoint was the next stop on the elevator line, which we got onto.

“What is Pride anyway? I’ve heard it mentioned a lot.”

“Where everyone lives and most people work. It’s a huge city.”

“So that leaves...” Blake was counting on his fingers. “Sloth above that, right?”

“No, there isn’t a Sloth.”

“Sort of design flaw then, isn’t it? Having a theme and not sticking to it?”

“There used to be.”

“You know, I do love having things explained to me. It’s really one of my favorite things, especially when I’m hearing about all these things.”

“You’re leaving by the end of today anyway, so do you really need to know?”

He shrugged. “It’s sort of fun.”

“Pride’s a giant city with a fake sky, so try not to stand out by gaping at it. We need to walk around the outer perimeter, and from there... I don’t usually have trouble getting to Earth. Hell’s security is pretty lax, and there’s usually no one guarding it.”

“How long will it be?”

“Oh, let’s just savor the minutes.”

We proceeded to do so by standing in utter silence for the remainder of the ride. For what ended up being a slightly messier journey than I had anticipated, Blake and I hadn’t really bonded, had we? He was nice enough to me, but there was clearly a resentful and embarrassed-by-me edge to him beneath his stutter and quick smile.

Rude kid. Wouldn’t miss him.

The atrium that the elevator arrived at was wholly a breath of fresh air from the mess of architecture that was lower Hell. It reminded me a lot of a train station, all green steel and windows, with many small shops along the edges and middle. Cafe tables were strewn in one section to the side, providing a good view of the entrance to the lower levels as well as the city outside.

From here you couldn’t see much of the city, just a few off white buildings. Of course, when it came to Pride, once you’d see one building you’d seen them all. Barring the central square, of course.

“Jesus,” Blake said the moment we entered the city proper.

“Don’t gawk,” I mumbled. People were in no way going to notice him, but I kept up the insistence that maybe they might, just to make sure he felt like he needed me. He didn’t really, but what was I bringing him to Earth for anyway? My own self satisfaction?

He was just one part of a dick move, purposely messing with Hell’s systems to see what happened. The actual guaranteed outcome of all this- that, at the end of the cycle in a few days, he’d reset with the rest of the humans- didn’t bother me.

“This is some serious sci-fi stuff. Odd considering how far behind everything else has looked.”

“We’ve been stuck on the same technology as Earth since the cycles started, but before them, we actually had ‘modern’ tech. Stuff that was normal on Earth until the cycles started and threw the world back into the past. Not much of it has survived, but you’ll still see a few thin laptops or touchscreen phones. The sky though- that’s been here the whole time.”

“Feels like some sort of dystopia.”

The sky was a perfect dome and a perfect collection of high definition screens. You could only see the thin cracks that separated one gigantic panel from another when standing on the top of one of the city’s skyscrapers- otherwise, they were seamless. The video feed was usually simple, a gradient blue grey, but there would still be days where white clouds would float by, varied and realistic.

And sometimes it’d rain, too, only in small moderated amounts, but the mere fact that it could rain was refreshing in some sense, combatting the innate claustrophobia that came with living in an dirty cave.

Small pores between the cracks in that screens could create harsh winds or thick fog as well. I’d once even seen it snow, just a light shower to celebrate the season. They’d since seemed to have retired it, but it had been magical that one day to step into the city, with its off white skyscrapers and dirty grey streets, and feel something pure and familiar on my skin.

“There’s a lot of flaws to it, yes,” I said, but I think I really did have some affection for the place. That tends to come with the years, I think, sick adoration for places that never deserved it.

“I kind of want to explore, just to know,” Blake said, “I mean, part of me is pretty sad for things to end this quick. This is probably my only chance to explore a magical land that is actually real and... I just want to leave.”

“We can stay a bit longer. I’m flat broke, so we’d have to go back to my dorm, but... if you wanted to spend more time here, I can do that.”

“I can always come back, right? This isn’t one of those things involving a one way inter-dimensional barrier? I always hated those in books. Never really understood by the main character wasn’t allowed to have the best of both worlds.”

“Getting back is as simple as walking in.”

“In that case, expect to see me again!” He smiled.

I was used to people telling me that, promising unlikely things, but it still bothered me.

 

I led the way around the outer perimeter of the city and into the small lobby off on the western side. The tile here was incredibly blue, reminiscent of a emptied swimming pool. The elevators here connected to the part of Wrath where human souls were deposited after collection by a hellhound, and off to the side were a few rooms used for introductory classes. One was going on right now, and I could half hear a calm woman explaining the concept of cycles.

At the very end were the two most important elevator lines, dire enough that there weren’t even stairs. Most of Hell lacked stairs, in fact, a design flaw nearly impossible to fix considering the hard and unstable rock that cradled the city.

The elevator that went to the present Earth was ancient, rickety, and terrifying. I was glad not to be taking it today.

As we approached the bay, I signaled for Blake to wait while I crept forward. It was extremely rare, but there actually seemed to be a guard on duty, meaning only one thing:

“So that plan’s fucked,” I announced to Blake, “Guard’s at the post.”

“We’re you just chatting about how you could talk your way past any guard?”

“Sure.” I ran a hand through my hair. Hopefully that wasn’t a clear sign how much I had been lying. I was notoriously good at slipping through the cracks when I needed to be, but that particular skill didn’t usually involve... other people. “I can try.”

“What’s the harm?” Blake said, and I returned to the guard post, walking into few so he could notice me.

“Hello,” I said, hoping that was enough.

“Cleared personnel only,” The guard said. He looked friendly enough, like he was expecting me to reach into my pockets and pull out my ID badge so he could let me through. It was rare people had that high of expectations for me.

“I’m good,” I said in a dry voice, giving a small wave.

He frowned at this. “I’m sorry, but I need to see your ID to let you through. Are you a hellhound? Who’s your supervisor?”

“Ahm, Kell?”

Considering Kell was head of finances, and god, everyone knew that, the guard closed his eyes. I tensed up. “You on a special mission from him?”

Holy shit, had I accidentally said some secret code word? Kell did seem the type to partake in shifty business, but this was a serious mark of luck for me. Maybe the guard was new, and hadn’t yet learned the faces of all of Kell’s Earth-approved workers. “Yes. My associate, too.”

“You may pass.”

It was really hard to hide the elation on my face, despite years of practice. I hurried over to Blake and dragged him into the elevator before the guard could change his mind, or perhaps actually give Kell a call.

“Wasn’t really expecting that,” I said to Blake, suddenly hyper and resentful of how little space I had to pace in here. “There’ll be no more problems from here on out. We get out right near the pit, jump down, and then climb out of the Hellmouth on Earth. Easy.”

Blake grinned. “I’m still a bit nervous about all this, but awesome. Always best to get things over with by doing them, you know? Waiting only builds the anxiety.”

“We’re getting out of Hell in record time. Only a day! What do you say to that?” I was feeling really good.

“Thanks!” Blake shrugged with enthusiasm. “You didn’t have to do this, but... you did. That’s some serious altruism there, especially from a demon. Even if Hell wasn’t really too bad, I’m glad to be getting out of there before phase two of the story- you know, how everything always looks candy bright until the real horror starts seeping in? I think everything is for the best when you just leave things early.”

“Maybe not everything.”

“Oh, you know, metaphors are always too vague for their own good. You know what I’m saying. I’m just excited to be alive.”

“What are you planning to do?”

“Tell my family that I’m not dead? We’ll see how that goes over. And find out where I am, of course. And... where they are. And reapply for college... I guess. And then think of something to tell my next employer when explaining this weird gap on my resume. God. How long have I been in here anyway?”

“Sydney took your file, so we don’t know. Couldn’t be longer than nineteen years.”

“Yeah, and last I checked I’m not thirty-eight. So hopefully not too long.” Blake was quiet for a long time. “This is going to be really hard.”

“If you need somewhere to stay, I... have a place in Hornbrook. The town above here.”

“Why do you have a home on Earth?”

“It’s not really mine. Just. Where I stay, okay? I can help you learn what you need to.”

Blake looked down. “Thank you. That means a lot more than just saving me, you know. Going all the way. It’s like taking a beggar in instead of just giving them a hundred bucks for Christmas.”

“I feel bad for you.”

“That’s something.” Blake held his breath for a few seconds, and then fell back into his happy routine. “You should visit my family sometime! I have two little sisters, Bianca and Nadia. They’re pests. but good ones. I’m sure there’s something I can do, eventually, to repay you.”

“You don’t have to.” He wasn’t going to be able to. That was the real kicker. The cycles would reset him, and I probably should warn him about it. But on the other hand, not telling was a whole lot easier. He’d be gone soon. I was used to that. I was fine with that.

“I have to amount to something first, though.” He swallowed. “That might be a lot harder than it used to be. And I sucked at it last time.”

Existential dread could basically be seen in Blake’s eyes. “Hey. This kind of thing usually makes people stronger in the movies, right? They come back in act three with vengeance.”

“I don’t really think of myself as a main character.” Blake’s voice got quieter with every word.

There wasn’t an easy response to that, so I didn’t bother to reply, and we waited the rest of ride in silence.

At the end, there was a couple clinks and clunks typically associated with aging machinery, and then the doors slowly parted. A man with small white horns and the cyan uniform of a soldier was waiting on the other side, phone in hand like he had been using it to impatiently track the time.

When I tried to walk past, the soldier put an arm out and blocked my path. “You’re under arrest.”

“Uh,” I said, as it was the first thing to cross my mind. “Why?”

He didn’t grace me with an answer immediately, first taking the time to give me a voice that clearly indicated he knew that _I_ knew. “This is a restricted area.”

“So are we going to jail...? What’s our sentence?” Blake asked, fishing for information. The soldier made us take a U-turn right back into the elevator.

“Might be death,” I said. “Hell likes to keep its population culled, so we may be sent out as bait on the warfront. They get their criminals all dressed up in fancy uniforms so the angels will attack them. Call it the 'Death Corp'.”

“You’re very calm,” The soldier remarked. Then he noticed Blake, who was biting his nails. “You didn’t get very far or see anything notable, so it’ll probably just be work detail.”

“On the other hand, could be treason and trespassing. The pit’s pretty important, and we lied to someone in uniform in an attempt to get there. And invoked the name of one of The Few!” I continued, in the sweetest voice I could handle.

The soldier didn’t think I was being very funny. “Depends on who’s running the court. Listen, you’ll spend a few minutes being checked into jail when we get back, and then since you’re nonviolent we’ll give you a tracking bracelet and set you loose until the night. Trial should be tomorrow. Quick and clean.”

“Pretty dirty if you’re honestly saying death is a possible outcome for...” Blake’s voice was wavering with every syllable.

I yawned.

Death wasn’t a major concern of mine.


	8. Fourth horse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jailed, Mannie runs into an old friend and has a strange encounter.

The jail was nothing more than a corner in the smallest police station in the city, a tiny booth that didn’t even have its own bathroom. A proper uniformed officer took note of our names and crime, but didn’t press much for details, as was the Hell way of doing things.

Blake had been shaking from the moment we entered, and I was beginning to suspect he had some kind of fear of authority figures- or maybe it was just general anxiety. The officers here- just two of them- were completely chatty with the both of us and each other, seemingly sympathetic to our soon misfortune, though still stern in reminding us of the law.

“I usually don’t get caught.” I had remarked to one of them, and Blake looked ready to faint.

She laughed with a lot more charm than most people had in their laughs. “Good luck with Glenn tomorrow, kid.”

“I think we both know the likely outcome of that,” I said, probably at the highest level of cheeriness Blake had ever seen me at. This all, to me, was sort of like a joke. I knew what cards to play tomorrow with Glenn- most people did.

She was one of The Few, as anyone important in Hell had to be- she’d gotten there through some level of bloodlust, but you’d never have guessed her capable of such a thing. I remember when she first got to Hell, conservative blonde bun paired with the least interesting outfit choices. A week into running the courts- without any law experience, naturally- she had cut all her hair off and adopted a habit of only wearing pink.

You’d have figured that if she was going to snap, it would have been during combat. Her hair was longer now, and she maybe ruled the legal system a little less vivaciously, but she was still living evidence of how fucked the internal infrastructure of Hell was.

The trick to winning against her was to make her like you, and I knew exactly how to do that. I figured pulling this skill out of nowhere tomorrow would really impress Blake, which... I guess... was something I suddenly wanted to do now?

After all out papers were filed, we were given our tracker bracelets, devices so understandably simple that they needed no other description but that.

“We expect you back by six,” the officer who set them up said with a smile. It was exactly four twenty-one.

“I’ll just stay here then,” I said, sitting on the little stool provided for criminals like myself. “Blake, go ahead and explore the city on your own.”

“Um, is that... safe?” He whispered. He had been very dodgy about giving too much information to the officers, perhaps worried they might stress him for being a human.

“Yeah. Look at these fine officers of law here, and tell me you don’t feel at ease.” When he still looked unsure, I sighed. “It’s midday and you have nothing mug worthy on you. Stick to the center and there’s even less than a zero percent chance that something will go wrong.”

He really, really, reluctantly went out the door, still rubbing his upper wrist where the tracker was applied.

“Am I allowed to watch TV here?” I asked, after sitting on the stool for around ten minutes, just clearing my mind.

“Go ahead.” The officer that was still here said, and she tossed me the remote to the station’s tiny government-issued television. I immediately skipped to channel five. The gossip channel. Fuck yes.

The first piece was uninteresting to me, something about rumors concerning one of the military generals, the Jamie Pollina, and how no one knew a thing about them. The news was always throwing in this roundtable discussions of their identity on slow news days- all that mattered to most people was that they were a good killer.

People were really big into debating their gender, which was one of those things that didn’t really exist back when I was on Earth. But now it made for acceptable television.

I’d met _her_ once before. She didn’t talk, and I figured that if we were to meet again, we’d probably get along.

After that came something about how the capricorn guy might’ve had a secret boyfriend in the army, and then a little bit about the expected haul for the cycle change. An investigative report about how Kell might be gay.

Boring stuff. I loved hearing the more crazy rumors they made up, about addiction and manslaughter. Hell having a supportive gay community had seemingly backfired in how much the daytime television could devote to such commentary, able to claim there was nothing _wrong_ with their questions, and that they merely wanted to _know_.

After only half an hour, I was feeling pretty bored, and I decided it was an appropriate time to take a nap. I got on the floor and curled my head into the nook of my arm, compressing myself into a ball. The officer paid me no mind as I quickly settled into resting.

And...

Well, who doesn’t know sleep? It takes a lot of work to get into sometimes, but then it happens, and you’re never aware for it. And you rarely get to know what it’s like to wake up, either- you just are.

It’s one of the nicest sensations the brain can cook up, and I’m quite fond of the effect.

Except.

My thoughts were wild, erratic and often inaccurate, but then there was a man. I was on the floor, trying to sleep, and I heard the clicking of dark dress shoes, and I looked up and there-

Was a man. He had on a long grey coat with an off white fur collar, and he looked at me, and looked at the policewoman. I guess I was pretending to sleep, but my eyes were wide open and he had to know I was awake. Something about his presence threw me off, and it likewise bothered the policewoman- she was all ‘apologies’ and ‘thank you’ to this man. Every other word seemed to be an effort to come off as polite.

He was talking to the police, and the police seemed fully willing to do whatever he asked- though he wasn’t asking _much_.

Then he walked over to me, each step a hearty click against the tiled floor from his slightly platformed shoes. He leaned over me. “Come.”

And what I should have said was: ‘I have someone with me, who I need to wait for. No thank you, strange man.’

What I said was: “Of course.”

I felt lucid, like I should’ve known this man, like I was committing a crime by going with him. Well, wait- I _did_ know him. He knew me.

It is a bit of a walk to the center of the city, but it felt like a literal second, just a dizzy moment between here and there.

And there was his apartment, suddenly, a luxurious place. All too soon he had cooked me dinner, and we were on the roof, and _fuck_ did my head hurt.

“It’s good to see you again.” That was the only phrase that stuck with me, but we were talking the whole time through. Down the city streets, up the stairs, into his apartment- neither shut up. Neither minded.

It was a total disconnect, a memory that I was living through. _Again_.

That couldn’t have been good.

He ran his fingers through his messy dark hair and called me by my other name, and I laughed and did likewise.

Blake didn’t even stand a chance, even though something about my heart hurt when I thought about him wandering the streets, returning to find me gone. The police wouldn’t tell him who had picked me up. This man had made sure of it.

So he’d sleep in a cell tonight. I’d sleep on the couch. We’d reunite tomorrow, and if he was mad, well-

I was too.

The man in the dark coat brought me a mug of hot chocolate, the top obscured by mini marshmallows. I took a deep breath of the night air and wrapped the blanket around me.

The man sat next to me, with a mug of his own.

 

I woke up in another room, on a comfortable couch, exhausted. The floors were real dark wood, and the couch was leather, and the blanker over my body was an old and stained quilt.

At some point, I had changed my clothes. The more I looked around, the more I became sure something had really fucked up in the universe, and I had somehow glitched through space time- I had the foggiest sense that I knew exactly what had happened, and where I was.

But I also couldn’t remember a damn thing. There had been a man in a moonlit room, and I could still hear the steady click of his dark dress shoes on his expensive floor. And he had been short, and we had laughed, and- and we had a lovely night together.

The _fuck_ was going on? I didn’t tend to drink, and I wasn’t one for drugs, but there must have been one or the other involved last night. And...

When I thought it over, my perfect internal clock told me it was the day after that, after my supposed court date. It was way early in the morning, like six. I rubbed my wrist- the tracker had been removed by the man in the dark room.

Of course it had. My brain had the tendency to do this, delete things, skip over past events. But it was rare something like this would get repressed so instantly.

Or at least, purposely ignored.

I got up. I had taken a shower the night before, and I was wearing a new tank top- white fading to gray, a gradient that I definitely found neat. On the side of the couch was a long black double-breasted winter coat with gold embroidery. God, it was gaudy, but it was exactly the kind of thing I liked.

This apartment was huge for Hell, about the size of an actual house. Behind me was a balcony that appeared to overlook the entire city. If I picked through this place, I would likely find out the exact identity of that dark skinned man in the dark clothes in the dark room in seconds.

But I think I knew who he was already, even if my brain was throwing a fit. It was capable of worse, so I slipped the coat on and left.

And as I jammed my hands into the pockets of my new, slightly too warm for October coat, I felt a single piece of paper in there.

 _‘It’s always lovely to see you again. Now get going, L! See you in a few hours~’_ , the note read, in a lovely cursive script. The man had included a small emoticon of a smiling devil.

That was never good.

This wasn’t an apartment complex. I realized that as I arrived in the lobby and took in the sheer size- it resembled a hotel if anything. I stepped outside and wasn’t surprised to recognize that this was the main government headquarters for Hell- part of a trio of towers that marked the center of the city.

Pride was a series of circles, and at the center was the central square, a park that for the most part resembled a roundabout, except there were no cars in Hell. There were pigeons though, and street musicians.

The trio of skyscrapers officially had names like the rest of Hell- Melchior, Casper, and Balthazar. Out of those three, the lamest name went to the most important central tower. The two on either side were merely luxury apartments.

Casper wasn’t used for much, and was short and squatter than its siblings, and obviously also had a few apartments in the upper levels.

On all three buildings, in dazzling high definition, were gigantic screens that cycled through the news, advertisements, and headlines.

I had to find Blake. That was it. That was my answer.

Continue like nothing had happened.

Where would he have gone to...? It was the day after his supposed trial, so either he was out in combat, absolutely dead, or he had been released to wander. My immediate guess was that he’d return the my dorm room- it wasn’t locked, and it was the only place he knew besides the cell they kept him in back in Wrath.

So I had a goal. A lead. A sense of direction. Good.

I got antsy when things weren’t to my liking, and nothing sent me stumbling like a lack of purpose.

The entrance to the lower levels was due south of the circular city, straight across from the building I had come from. It’d be a walk.

The city was crowded, but the lack of actual streets left the crowd more evenly spaced, and meant it was easy for me to weave around business folks and duck under inconvenient horns.

The was a bike lane on one side, but it was uncommon for people to use it besides the police, who were granted access to the only motorized vehicles in Hell. Because of the peoples’ tendency to avoid walking in it regardless, I started walking along, head down to keep me moving quickly.

Time goes a lot slower when no one is talking to you. I knew every tick of time better than my own irregular heartbeat, and knew that was a dumb concept- nothing ever slowed.

But it did.

The note, from the man on that moonlit deck, had a subtle warning in it. _See you in a few hours_.

 _See you soon, again_ , he had promised me. _Why has it taken this long? You’ve been here for so long._

Yes. And so had he.

I didn’t remember the game he was playing until it was too late, in the same vein that I could remember every contour of his face without knowing quite his name.

At the end of the city limits, a few steps from the glass of the atrium, there was a high pitched alarm, followed by the barking-ish sounds that could only have been from a hellhound.

Suddenly exhaustion hit me as I contemplated what surely had to happen next: the running. The fear. I would’ve yawned if my heart wasn’t beating so fast. The hound- hounds?- was still far off, which really said a lot about how loud they were. The moment I ran I would identify myself as a target to the local security, and I tried not to look nervous as I quickened my pace.

The moment I was in the slightly less busy inter-level passage, I started to run. The howling gasps from the hellhound echoed miserably in the tunnels, like a ghost in a rainstorm. My stamina was nonexistent, and the moment I began I had to stop, clutching my side in pain.

A few onlookers looked ready to stop me themselves, but I was such a non threat that I could tell they weren’t too concerned. The hound was approaching. I coughed.

I threw myself onto the first metal maintenance door I could open, and scrambled to close it shut behind me. I huddled in the dark, feeling exceedingly tired. I’m not afraid of anything. Not the dark, not heights, not small spaces, not bugs, not lightning, not anything at all, but right now I was maybe a bit scared.

Instinct has never fared well with humanity, and the primal horror of being hunted was overpowering everything else.

Someone opened the door and I backed up even more into the darkness. A long reptilian snout extended through the door, far too large to enter.

I was almost feeling safe as it sniffed the air and backed up.

And then a woman entered the darkness. She still wasn’t fully back to a humanoid shape, but she was back to a humanoid size and she began to creep towards me.

I do not say creep lightly. Every step was slow, her animal eyes frantically skirting, her long tongue moving like it had a mind of its own. Her head tilted curiously as I tried to back away. My hands tripped themselves as I attempted to pull myself along.

As she inched herself forward she began to open her maw. Rows upon rows of jagged teeth lined the walls of her jaw, far too many to fit. She slowly took back her hellhound form, careful not to get too big. Her paws billowed as her claws appeared, her skin shimmered with her scales, her hair bristled like liquid as it became fur.

The sounds were of her heavy feet, my sweaty palms, her drooling mouth and my desperate breaths. I could smell peppermint in her breath.

I was definitely fucked.

I had a briefly violent thought of killing myself before the hellhound got to me, maybe if I slammed my skull against the metal walls hard enough I’d at least be knocked out. Or maybe I could find a loose sheet of metal to slice my throat open on.

I hit a wall. It wasn’t a dead end, just a corner, but I was so delayed it gave the woman enough to time reach my legs. I tried to desperately round the corner and hurry.

But it was too late for that. She was over my legs, and then my torso, and then her face was to mine.

I was covered in a cold sweat, fever forehead, clammy hands, dry throat and sore back. My hair was frizzy, my eyes were watery and my whole body smelled terrible.

“Oh!” Was all I muster, as she took her time to kill me. I almost whimpered and then I really did whimper and then I groaned and then I made all sorts of strange sounds. This is how it always went.

Eventually she leaned forwards and a tooth grazed my throat.

And I cried out. And I cried in. I was just fucking crying everywhere at this point.

She was being careful, humane almost- but that was a hard task for a hound to try, and though she was condensed to perhaps the uneven size of a great dane, her long clawed paws, on either side of my neck, had still caught on my skin.

And though she was taking her time, lining up her bite with the soft flesh of my neck, in adjusting her angle one of her paws stepped on my chest, causing me to yelp with pain.

She wasn’t alarmed by this, but I was dizzy with pain; she was extraordinary heavy for her size, and I swear to god she had broken something. Maybe a rib. It wasn’t the worst pain I’d ever felt, but it was heavy, and I was struggling to breath.

Not like breathing had been _easy_ before- the panic, the fear. The typical.

But it being typical didn’t exactly make it welcome, or _not awful_.

Everything felt like an eternity, and there were two moments I was sure of:

First, she moved. The paw that had been digging into my chest suddenly carried all her weight for a moment, and I screeched as I felt something snap and then dig against my the inside of my body. I had been hyperventilating before, but now I was breathless. Wide eyed and choking.

Still screaming.

The second moment: a nick against my throat. A few more nicks. A careful line of blood, pain, and the scent of pennies. There was a sensation of scooping, and eventually the pain stopped.

I was dizzier.

And then I was out.


	9. Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mannie, back from the dead, meets an angel.

Again I woke.

It was better than being hungover. I breathed, I waited, and I closed my eyes. And I came back to Hell.

 

I had to find Blake. We hadn't bonded, we weren't friends, but I had the suspicion that he was good, and I needed to find him to be certain. I took the elevator down from where I had woken after my death- where I always woke when I died. I arrived in Pride, at the bright blue hall where security had caught us, and found it desolate. I went into an empty conference room, and dialed up Kell.

It made sense, that he might know where Blake was. Either that or I was lying to myself, just desiring to hear his lovely voice. My mind was always a bit wonky post-mortem.

"Hey," I said meekly, when he answered his phone.

“Hi honey,” Kell said. He sounded distant and distracted, and he only got to using pet names when he was upset about something. "I must admit I'm a little bit spooked to be getting this call from the afterlife. Please explain why the fuck I just had to ID your bloody corpse a few hours ago.”

"I'm immortal,” I said weakly.

"Ah. Right. Mannie, babe, I really hate that I have no other option than to believe you on that. Just nod and accept that Mannie, good ol' grumpy Mannie, is actually a fucking elder god."

"Universal constant,” I said.

"Right."

"I can't age."

"Okay." Kell sounded utterly worn out. "Any other revelations you care to bestow upon me?"

"I'm looking for Blake."

"Who?"

"The human I took- I guess you never met him. Um. Have you seen Sydney?" At least she knew what Blake looked like.

"She's in Wrath doing another secret meeting with the rest of Phillip's crew." Kell took a loud sip of his drink.

"Weren't they planning on killing you or something?"

"I guess I'll find out."

"Alright. Bye."

"Mannie- before you hang up, just please come and see me as soon as possible. I'm in the office now, but I'll be having a meeting in Gluttony an hour from now. I would like to clear up whatever... whatever the fuck happened to you. You're immortal."

"I'm immortal."

"Goodbye."

I was immortal, and had been for years, as that tended to go. It was a major inconvenience in my life, to be honest, but it'd been a part of it for so long that most of the surprises involved no longer mattered to me.

Death still tended to throw me off. Usually, once I died, I had to get the hell out of wherever my corpse was being buried. Hopefully Kell hadn't told too many other people about my miraculous ability. And with any luck, that bastard in the dark room- that motherfucker, Alexander Scott- wouldn't send another hound after me.

I took the second elevator line straight to Wrath, arriving in the bay where all the main elevators were. From there I walked a determined pace towards Phillip's office, not at all confident, but at least with a goal.

I arrived at the end of the hall. I slowly opened the huge doors with great curiosity and ducked my head back outside immediately. Sydney was in there alright, as well as a few others I hadn’t taken enough time to recognize.

“Mannie, kiddo, was that you?” I heard Sydney say with her usual cackle. It sounded a bit forced though. Like it was a relief for her to laugh.

She opened the other door and pulled me inside.

Three people sat at a table in the center of the room. I realized they were all executives, but I hadn’t properly met any of them besides Sydney. Sometimes I forgot how many people twelve really is.

I knew all their names from my years of following Hell's politics, and my many hours of reading the gossip columns.

There was the cancer, Stacy Baruth, a barely breathing stereotype of a fatcat businessman, complete with an unlit cigar.

Next to him was the ever unfashionable taurus, Leigh Benning, who had chosen to wear a proper blazer with khaki cargo shorts and a logo t-shirt.

I suppose I did know the scorpio. I rarely bothered to learn the military branches' names, as they came and went so frequently. She was dressed more formally now, but I still could see her colorful array of tattoos creeping past her sleeves and neckline. She narrowed her pure black eyes as Sydney guided me to the head of the table.

There was someone else in the room, I realized. A young man was tied to a chair a distance off, his face marred with odd, square scares, like he had been partially skinned alive.

“This is Mannie,” said Sydney. She was trying to be energetic, but her efforts fell flat against the unimpressed panel that sat at the table.

“Is Mannie the key to you coming up with an actual idea?” Said Stacy. He coughed.

“Well-” Sydney started.

“I don’t want to hear it Sydney. You should have come prepared to this. You knew what we were expecting.”

“I don’t see why we need to change anything up at all!” Sydney said sharply. “Everything’s been absolutely fine- all thanks to me- and there’s no need to change it.”

“You know exactly why we need this-” Leigh glared at me impatiently. “You do realize we can’t talk about these things in _mixed company_ , right?”

I was all too glad to get going, and I began to step away but Sydney grabbed my shoulder painfully and held me in place.

“Look Syd, I really think you’re smart, really going places and all that, but I’m with everyone else,” the scorpio said, “you're immature, and besides the swords- which I love, believe me- you haven't done much to prove yourself worthy of this position.”

“Your past record is spotty as well.” Stacy added. "Does the public really want a criminal serving as our Aries? Well. They don’t know or care, but I do.”

“I-” Sydney looked ready to crumble. It was an emotion I had never expected to see her have. I saw her blink a few times, lift her head up to the ceiling and force a smile.

“You live,” said Cancer, blowing a cloud of smoke in our direction, “Like you’re trying to make a statement.”

She closed her eyes tightly, like she was expecting a punch. Then she began to tremble, shaking her head slightly. “I have nothing to prove!” She shouted. As if her volume surprised her, her shoulders tensed.

“You really do,” said Taurus, “We’ll have to formalize it with the rest, but I highly doubt they’ll object. Nice meeting, everyone else.” Taurus shuffled his papers together and packed up.

In a short time, I was alone with Sydney. And that bound man. She picked up her bag glumly.

"Sorry about that." She had tears in her eyes. "What are you doing here?"

"Looking for Blake,” I said flatly.

"He's missing? That's a bit unfortunate. He was always quite polite." Sydney was releasing the bound man's restraints as she talked. "...I can't believe they're going to kick me out."

"You've only had this job for a few months anyway. What's your killcount?"

"I wasn't in the military."

"That's the problem then- a distinct lack of job experience.”

“Do you honestly think you’re funny?” Her voice flared up. Then she calmed down, though she was applying a little more force than she needed to as she untied and adjusted the bound man's restraints. "Sorry. I think I came off a little too strong for you. I'm not as obnoxious as... I am."

"What's that group you were meeting with planning?"

Sydney groaned. "You know that angel-fucker, Christina?"

"That connotation did not occur to me, but yes, you saw me with her a few days ago."

"She's trying to end the war. Kell's on her side- maybe they're sleeping together too? And a couple of Kell's friends side with him too. They've been organizing a peace talk with one of the angels in secret for a while. My pals don't want that, yeah?"

I didn't really want that either. Angels were- well, I don't know. I didn't like them alive, that was certain. "You guys have a lot of meetings for what seems to be a straight forward plan."

"It's the culture. We're just so accustomed to... anyway, _Alexander's_ on our side, so he's sure to veto it this afternoon,” Sydney said, "Though it doesn't help that Phillip just fucking died on us yesterday."

"Where do you think a kid like Blake would have gone on his own?"

"You're really interested in what I have to say, aren't you? I don't have a clue where your human went." Sydney finished her endless adjustments of the bound man's restraints. "Here. I want you to take this one with you to Earth. It's my fault he's had to suffer like this, and if I'm getting kicked out of The Few... it won't be long before I'm in the military for real. And then, god knows, dead."

"Why do you want me to take him?" I assessed the scarred man again. He stood up, and the coils and ropes that had been holding him fell to the floor. He was Korean, with particular sharp eyes. His left eye had a thin, long cut underneath, and he seemed unable to fully open it.

His hair stuck up wildly, though it seemed weirdly oily, and there was this very uneasy feeling to his presence. I didn't get the impression he was watching me, or paying attention to me, just that- he was _aware_.

"He's an angel. His name is Rhamiel."

"Absolutely not."

"I’m not going to force you, but please.” She left in silence, her face fallen and remorseful.

Rhamiel looked at me devoid of emotion. He didn’t move his face at all, and just barely tilted his head.

I really, really didn’t need this. I didn’t care about angels and what happened to them. And I certainly didn’t want to be hunted down and killed again because I was carting around some top-secret captive angel.

Hell never had never kept any angels that I knew of- it was too dangerous. They'd always find a way to weapon, and even if they could be taken down with brute force, the cost was always too high. Not to mention demons were superstitious about them- only seeing them through the eyes of combat had had that effect.

I sighed, but I had to do it. I had to take this damn angel with me. Blake would’ve wanted me to, and I knew that, and I knew he’d be ecstatic when I learned what I was doing. So now it was not a choice but an obligation on my part. I had to do it.

“So. Rhamiel, huh?” I said.

He didn't answer, only narrowing his eyes and watching.

 

Rhamiel moved at a slow and silent march behind me. I had to check every few seconds that he was even still there.

“Here’s the ground rules,” I said, “You have to stay near me at all times, and and talk to no one. Always do what I say.” I waited, maybe hopelessly expecting a response from Rhamiel, but he was as quiet as ever. “Oh shit, you’re not like mute or something, are you?”

He didn’t acknowledge me at all.

“Deaf? Are you like deaf and mute or something? Oh god I don’t know any sign language.”

“I am neither, I am whole,” Rhamiel said at last. He had as quiet of a voice as I would’ve expected, and he spoke in a proud and haughty tone.

On the way out of Wrath, Rhamiel paused and looked intensely at the hall to the pit where the hellhound guard usually sat.

“They were holding you down there, right?” I tried asking, and as if he had forgotten I was there he suddenly stepped back and began to walk again. “You’re hopeless, aren’t you?” I said.

At the elevators bay, he seemed mildly surprised by what he saw, and I figured he had someone never been exposed to an elevator before. Angels lived on the present Earth, without an easy link to the inhabited Earth- and even then, their lifestyle would've rejected technology in the same way they rejected sexuality and women.

He was tilting his head again, curiously examining every little thing I did.

"There's no quick way to get around Hell," I warned, “so I hope you like elevators and walking."

He briefly bit his lower lip, but that might not have been a conscious action, just me searching for something understandable about how he acted.

I was used to solitude, but something about being with a silent companion was worse than having none. I kept wanting forget about him and monologue out my stray thoughts, but the hair on my neck keep standing up like this was a horror movie, and this scarred angel was an actual threat.

I needed to keep myself in check; Rhamiel was harmless and under my control. He didn't even know what an elevator was, for fuck's sake.

We went to Greed, and I cautiously led him to my office, only to find Kell wasn't there. Time to backtrack to Gluttony and interrupt his meeting there. If Rhamiel was upset about this action, he continued to make no comment.

At least he wasn't of risk to stand out- surely Kell and the others would recognize him, but otherwise scars were common among soldiers. Even if his were a little strange, pink and shallow marks that seemed to have no intention of serious harm behind them.

Before entering Gluttony, I tried to assess what needed to be done about Rhamiel. Would he stay here if I asked him to? It was my only strategy, but I wasn't liking the odds that my quiet burden was providing. If I could count on an angel for anything, it was the desire to kill, and to honor his true god archangel Michael.

I brought Rhamiel in with me, finally, after deciding I could perhaps placate him with food. The executives weren't likely to be on the lookout for him, after all.

Gluttony was an expansive food court area, orange and bright, with a cavernous ceiling and stiff plastic tables. Though there were plenty of places to eat in Pride, this was where you would always have an assured ration of food, and there were special elevators from each floor to here.

I scanned the room for Kell and spotted him in the far left corner of the room. I spun to face Rhamiel, "Would you like something to-" I started to ask, and then noticed he had sat down in at an empty table near the door. "Don't go anywhere."

He seemed to nod in response. I hurried towards Kell's table, just in case. It might have been law that the paparazzi wasn't allowed to eavesdrop on them when they were eating together like this- either that or they were just too boring of a bunch to tap into every single day. Though the surrounding tables kept shooting the lot of them glances, they looked like any other suited ensemble of adults eating at a too-low table that’d fit in more in a high school cafeteria.

"Mannie,” Kell said the moment he locked eyes with me.

"Oh yes," I said, though it felt like a dumb thing to say the moment it was out of my mouth.

"Hello, Kell's employee. Why are you here?" The leo asked. She was potentially the politest person I knew, though I had never formally met her. Since she was old and surely near death, the tabloids hadn't bothered with her in a long time.

"Let's speak in private,” Kell said, standing up, “Sorry, I didn't mean for you to come here while this meeting was going on- but it's for the best, before you _disappear_ again." His emphasis on 'disappear' implied to me that he might have finally checked my file.

"No." I waved my hands. "I mean, I'll talk to you later, okay? See you again. I'm just here to..." What the hell was I saying? I'd watched Kell eat with his friends so many times before- though god, that sounded so creepy, _I was so creepy_ \- but actually talking in front of them was terrifying. I kept my eyes on Kelsey, Kell's semi-boyfriend, especially.

He was so judgmental, and so good looking, and some how messing up in front of him seemed a lot worse than doing so in front of Kell.

"I-I have something important to tell you,” I said, fairly quiet as to not arouse too much suspicion from the neighboring table. While Kell kept a good, neutral expression, everyone else- the leo, pisces, capricorn, and the virgo Kelsey- did not look pleased.

"Well?" I took too long to get on with it, and now the fabulously pink pisces Glenn Illuzi seemed to have had enough of me.

"Um, well." I glanced back at Rhamiel. Was I honestly about to admit I had him with me? It's not like it would be a huge betrayal to give the sucker up to the authorities, even if it did mean the rest of his ageless life would be spent in a tiny room with a number of knives. But he was an angel, so it'd be okay, and I wan't _really_ sure how comfortable I was taking him with me anyway-

"I have with me an... Well, I stole- more like received as a gift I suppose-" I dropped my voice down as low as I could. "An angel! This guy, Rha-"

Before I could finish my sentence, Kell groaned, "Mannie, no."

There had been a collective cringe at the table the moment I started the first syllable of 'angel'. Mixes of fear, disgust, and unease were carried by everyone.

“What? How did you get him?” Said Capricorn with great worry.

“I don’t think it matters how, what matters is getting him back,” said Leo.

“Holy shit though how long before someone notices? Is he nearby? Do you have him restrained?” Glenn asked.

“Guys, guys, come on,” said Kell repeatedly, trying to keep everyone quiet and sensible. They were all speaking at once, though consciously ducking their volume any time they had to say the word 'angel '. "Mannie, I don't know what you're doing with him, but you need to put him back. He's a threat to _everyone_."

"Maybe he isn’t,” I said, "I mean, I'm just going to free him from whatever you were doing. It's only ethical."

"We need him,” the leo said.

"Mannie, don't treat this like a game. Someone will get hurt. Where is he?"

"You don't know that. Maybe he's thankful to be set free."

Kell was just shaking his head, and I felt even more like an idiot. I didn't want to take this guy- Blake never had to know I even had to the option to. But here I was, driven forward as always by my need to argue. Taking someone who was absolutely dangerous with me.

The people around us had taken notice that something was up, but with any luck none of them had heard what. Hoping no one would follow, I quickly turned around and navigated my way back to the exit. As I passed the table where Rhamiel was sitting, he stood up and followed me, head down.

“Bad idea on my part.” I told him once we were clear of the doors. I watched him tentatively. "Why were they so pissed about you anyway? I'd have thought people looking to make peace with the angels would be a little more tolerant of one."

“I can tell you,” Rhamiel said.

“Oh?” I said, but I didn’t mean to say it. I was just surprised to hear him speak.

“Arm me.”

“What?”

“Arm me. With a blade.”

“And where am I supposed to get one of those?”

Like he couldn’t believe what I was saying, he closed his eyes and re-opened them slowly. “On one of them. They carry them around. As rings.” The more he spoke, the more I could clearly identify his angelic accent.

"No one is going to just give me their angelsword, and I'm not going to steal one either. And no offense, but do you honestly think we're at a level of trust warranting me to hand you a deadly weapon?"

But Rhamiel was back to his silence.


	10. Harpist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Few is still nervous about Rhamiel, but Mannie is determined to stick with him- but they then run into someone unexpected.

"It'd be safest to just take you to Heaven,” I said to Rhamiel, walking back towards the elevator.

"The cycle change is in a few days,” he said, and I was so taken aback that I forget to answer for a few moments.

"How do you even know what that is?"

" _Qui?_ " He asked sarcastically. 'What' in angelic. Real smooth, asshole, I wasn't a fucking idiot.

"Are you implying you want to go to Earth instead? Fine. No difference to me." Hell had its policies against letting the humans know about the city, but it didn't matter much if something went wrong- they'd just reset within nineteen years anyway. What a simple, useful system we lived in.

"Arm me,” Rhamiel said, and I had a suspicion it'd be pointless to press him further.

We weren't far from the elevators when I heard someone shouting my full name. Far down the hall, the leo was jogging towards us in a perfectly balanced way, suggesting she was a lot healthier than she looked underneath her baggy uniform.

"Wait up!" She called, but we had already stopped. Rhamiel looked at her with something I took to be anticipation, and I gloomily noted he was watching her hands with great interest. She did have a ring on, but it was a wedding ring, and Rhamiel looked sharply up again.

“What gives?” I said automatically, not really putting much thought into my tone.

“Hi, my name’s Lane Brock, and I wanted to talk to you for a second. It was a bit busy back there and Kell thought we sort of overwhelmed you? If you don’t mind I’d like to take a detour to a place where I can explain a few things to you.” She tensed as she looked at Rhamiel. “And you too, of course. You’ll be there.”

"You're the chief of police, correct?" The leo was always the chief of police, that's how The Few worked, and I knew that. But still, I asked.

"That is correct. There is a garden not far from here, in Greed, that I though would provide a more private theater for us to talk in."

Lane took us to Greed, and I didn’t say anything. She was really doing her best to strike up a chat, and I did want to talk, but I just didn’t. Things are like that sometimes.

“Are you and Kell close then?” There’s always a few words that can make you pay attention no matter how much of a lull you were in, and I snapped back to the present.

“I don’t know really. I think so. Sometimes he’s terrible and sometimes he’s sincere and I don’t know how to deal with that.”

“You are then. We don’t get along, but I do know he’s picky about his friends.”

“I don’t know about him.”

“I don’t either.”

“I don’t want to talk about him.”

“I guess I don’t want to either,” said Lane, absentmindedly kicking up dust clouds as she walked. Obviously she only brought Kell up because she wanted to talk about him, not because she was interested in me.

“Kell is the dragon man, correct? I know all about him,” Rhamiel said. He had been speaking more as we walked, but only in small, often nonsensical snippets. “If you fulfill our agreement then I will tell you all about him.”

“Ah, is that so?” Lane had this particular way of treating Rhamiel that suggested a mix of sympathy, empathy and apology.

“He is practically a figure in our mythology. We have a number of names for him and his partner. Lots of killing. Lots of dead brethren. More to be told when our agreement is reached.”

“And what is your agreement, Rhamiel?” Lane reminded me of a kindergarden teacher in some way- she was wearing a long, military style off-teal coat with leo patches on the sides over a loose button down, and had square sunglasses perched on her head, but her slightly wrinkled face was abnormally kind, and her very grey hair was thick and... teacher-like. I couldn't quite place it, but she was homely in the proper meaning. Warm.

“Don’t use my name while speaking to me. You don’t have that right." It sounded like something he should have snapped, but Rhamiel was as calm as ever. "We have an agreement that this Mannie will provide me with a blade. As soon as possible.”

“Oh.” Lane stared at me. “Oh. That’s awfully kind of you.”

“Isn’t it?” I said bitterly.

We continued on into a moment that would’ve been quiet if not for the whistling. Rhamiel started suddenly, a jaunty and upbeat song that cycled and cycled until it finally ended with less warning then it began.

There were many halls in Greed I didn’t recognize. The place was fucking huge after all. Lane took us down a particularly wide hall, the low hanging lights reminding me of a train station. At the very end were great wooden double doors, followed by lesser wooden doors and then finally a set of glass doors.

The farms all had their own weather systems, akin to Pride, with artificial sunlight that nearly worked as well as the real thing. Because they still weren't perfect, the farms tended to disregard maintaining the illusion of the outdoors by hanging additional light lamps over the rows of crops.

Before the field began, there was a small terrace with a fairly large tree growing over it. Lane and I sat down at a glass table surrounded by stiff black patio chairs. Rhamiel kept standing, looking at his surroundings with aparent curiosity.

“What’s the deal then?” I said, ignoring him. The tree above us had a branch low enough that I could pluck a leaf off- I twirled it in my fingers as we spoke.

“I don’t disapprove, _per se_ , of you taking Rhamiel.” She did one of those fake coughs to clear her throat. “I do think however that you aren’t really aware of what you’re doing. And that you don’t understand why we even have- er, _had_ him. There are more things in play then simply us being terrible people who torture for fun.”

“You’re clearly holding something back." I began to tear the leaf apart, vein by vein. "If you don't care to discuss it with Rhamiel present, why don't we leave him here?"

"Is it safe to trust him by himself?” Asked Lane.

"We could try not to be rude and ask him,” I said, "Hey Rha- wait here."

"Do not desecrate my name,” he said scornfully.

"He'll be fine." I led the way into the fields, down a few stone steps. There was a heavy fog, creating the illusion the rows of crops went on forever. The ceiling was obscured, too, making it seem like the light lamps were hanging from the clouds.

It smelled like a garden. A couple people were scattered throughout, and we walked the perimeter.

“Ah, look, here’s the deal. Rhamiel is a key part of our military. Without him we’re going to be seeing a lot more casualties.”

“He worked with you? And this doesn’t seem like anything you couldn’t say to his face.”

"No, Rhamiel did not fight for us. But the research we've conducted on him has been vital."

“What about peace? You guys are like, trying to make peace with the angels, aren’t you? So wouldn’t returning a prisoner be good for you, as a sign of good will?”

"They probably are unaware we have him as prisoner,” Lane said glumly, "The angels aren't pleased with our prospects, and while the leader Michael is aware of our efforts, he refuses to speak to us. So yes, we’re doing our best, but everyday people are still fighting and dying regardless.”

“I’m not getting rid of Rhamiel.” I had decided that now, no matter how blatant he was being about his malicious intentions towards everyone in Hell. All I needed to do was get away from Lane and get him on an elevator. How difficult was it really going to be?

“I know.” Lane sighed heavily. “Why do you have to be so stubborn about this?”

"I promised someone I’d do it. Not actually promise him, but sort of mentally promised him. It’s what he would have wanted.” That reminded me, I still needed to be on the lookout for Blake. I suppose right now I was tabling that quest for until after I was done with Rhamiel.

“Wait, let me get this straight: you’re freeing an angel and, in doing so, getting many killed and making yourself a wanted person all to impress a _boy_?”

“That’s about right.”

“That’s silly.”

“You’re the one still withholding valuable information.”

Lane took a deep breath and composed herself. “You've heard what I had to say. You are free to go.”

We returned back to the terrace, Lane already exiting the farm.

“I like this place,” said Rhamiel, who had managed to climb to the top branches of the tree. “I like this tree.”

“We’re going now.”

“Is Lane going with us?” He climbed down the tree with expertise, hands confidently catching branches and feet carefully finding their place as he descended.

“No.”

He quickly swung back to the ground. “That is good. She was odd and strange.”

"What do you mean?"

"Old." He closed his eyes. "Women here are so strange. Women in Heaven are beautiful, minor goddesses second only to our mother. Yours are so old, ugly, and sinful."

"Your mother?" I asked.

"Our mother and Brother. Michael."

"Michael's really running a duel job there, huh."

"You have no right to speak his name,” Rhamiel said with a huff, the sort that I suspected that meant he was done speaking to me for a while.

 

“Have you ever considered fixing your posture? Your back will become weak.” In spite of his increasingly apparent distaste towards me, Rhamiel had been positively chatty. He had of course only chosen the most meager of topics to talk about, so it wasn’t even that I was learning anything new about him. No, it was all about rock textures and cheap shoes and uneven gaits. He had this cocky look plastered on his face the whole time through.

We were at the threshold of Greed again, and I consciously straightened my back as we waited for the elevator to arrive. Since I continued to insist on using the fancy one, we had to wait patiently as it went all the way to Pride, and then finally inched back down to our level.

When it opened, there was a man. As he didn't get out at Greed, we'd have to ride down to his destination of Wrath before we could finally make our way out.

For what was often called an express elevator, this thing was a little more cumbersome than not.

I didn't think a thing of the other guy in the elevator besides taking note of his bad fashion- a bright green striped sweater vest over a too large button up- and the fact that I didn't know him. So he was another employee using doing something he wasn't supposed to. Nothing to worry about.

But Rhamiel had a jerky reaction the moment he stared at this blonde guy's face, suddenly ducking his head down with a faint whimper.

That could mean only one thing: this man was an angel. And considering angels didn't normally stroll around Hell, heading on elevators towards Wrath like they knew what they were doing, I think I knew exactly who this was.

"Percy,” I said, leaning back on the elevator doors and facing him.

The man looked shocked, clearly not expecting to be so easily identified.

“It’s... Percial to you,” He said at last, his face stuck on disbelief.

“Percival?” I tried, thinking I had misheard.

“Perci _al._ ” He emphasized.

“That’s definitely incorrect.”

“That’s my name.”

"What's going on?" I asked him. "What are you doing?"

"How do you know him?” Rhamiel hissed at me, in an altered voice. He definitely knew Percy- if he was an archangel, I would guess all the angels did.

At the same time, Percy asked, "How do you know me?"

"I know a lot of things." I shrugged. Unfortunately, pretending to be important was my ultimate hobby, and I couldn't resist this opportunity. "I know all about you."

Percy stood very still and stiff. He was very tall, and not particularly attractive, and I couldn't imagine Christina actually being in any sort of intimate relationship with him, as Sydney had suggested. To be honest, however, I had generally trouble thinking of anyone being intimate with anyone else. It went with the ‘sex-repulsed asexual’ territory, I think.

"Did they send you to guide me? Christina gave me instructions, but I will admit I do not know the way,” he said. After a beat, he added, "You demons are disgusting."

"Uncalled for."

"Who is with you?" Percy asked, leaning over to examine Rhamiel. "He has suffered greatly because of you."

"You're really not holding back on the cheap shots, are you? Not sure how well a peace conference is going to suit you."

Percy was quiet for a while. "I want peace. I am not happy that I want such a thing, but I do, and I will stand before your leaders and say this. But there is no point in explaining myself to you or your wretched companion."

That probably hurt Rhamiel to hear. "Try me, you fuck. We're going to be here for a while."

"You are now being excessively rude,” Percy said with a glance towards the elevator's progress towards Wrath. We were nearly there, and he held onto his silence until we arrived.

"The secret meeting room isn't accessible from here,” I said, walking out from behind him and stopping him from wandering too close to the guard hellhound. I felt like a complete asshole, and was loving every second of it. Withholding knowledge was my one true love. "Have to head up to Pride again and take another line."

Percy scoffed, but followed me back onto the elevator. "Names."

"Mannie. And my friend here is Ra." Rhamiel again grimaced at my misuse of his name, but continued to look as forlorn as a beat dog, and didn't speak up. I elbowed him politely. "Like the Egyptian sun god, you heathen. Could have come up with a lot worse."

"I'd prefer full names."

"Mannie Avila. And Ra... Last."

“Both of your names sound like absolute _shit_ ,” Percy commented.

"And your name is Percial for some reason. Continue."

This seemed to take him aback. "Hm?"

"You were mentioning something about explaining yourself? This is one story I don't know. And believe me, this old thing is going to make our trip a long one."

"I hold a strong dislike of technology." Percy frowned. "Fine. I was exaggerating. My reasons are simple: I know a demon, and lately I care overall more about her not-dying than I do about killing her. She's told me to do this. I am going to do it."

"Very compelling case you're making."

"I am eternally Michael’s,” Percy said nonchalantly. I knew that he couldn't help his undying loyalty. "Christina is good to me. And Pepper would miss her too much."

"Are you two like, dating?"

 _"What?"_ Percy looked disturbed to be asked. "That is not a concern of anyone."

"She's attractive though, right?" I didn't really think so, but I wanted there to be no grey areas in my knowledge of this. I mean, maybe she looked _nice_. Not my type, but I suppose other people might've- I knew some people who liked her. There was something upsetting about that.

"I don't fully understand the human concepts of sexuality and attraction,” Percy said, "Angels are fully chaste, at full risk of felling. As an authority, I would never think to..."

"Okay, okay, I don't really care." A lie. I was wholly too much of a sucker for dumb gossip to not care if Hell was going to finally achieve peace due to some sappy forbidden love story. "Does Michael know about this?"

Rhamiel naturally cringed again, but Percy didn't seem to care. Exposure to non-angels had probably taught him Michael was an exceedingly common name. "Yes. Not everything, but he... he knew before I told him. He's psychic, so I didn't need to explain myself. Just tell him when, and he'd give me his reluctant blessing." We arrived in Pride, and I led him to the proper elevator line, to the pit.

"How do you know he's psychic, as opposed to just snooping on you?"

"Hm? He knows before I do. He always does. I do not wish to discuss him any further with you at this time."

"No need to get snappy."

"This whole conversation has primarily been snaps,” Percy said, rudely but it still somehow stung.

"Uh, sorry,” I said, suddenly embarrassed by myself. Did I come off strong, or was I just terrible? Constant mysteries. "...What's Heaven like?"

Percy watched me from the corner of his eye. "Better than Hell."

"You all doing good there?"

"...Yes." I saw something flicker in his face, just for the briefest second, but had no clue what it had been. "Why is your friend quiet?"

"He's shy. I wouldn't press him." When we both looked at Rhamiel, he further flinched, drawing himself into the corner of the elevator and covering his face.

"I'm sorry for him. Scars like that... angels can be felled for disfigurement that bad. I don't wish to know what happened to him."

"Yeah" I said, my sudden mood swing hitting harder than ever. Rhamiel was definitely a dick, but I had come into our one sided relationship with nothing but hostility. Being skinned alive... hurt. Angels were immortal- how long had he been here, trapped in that small white room, tortured? I was that hostile without any hardship.

He may have had an excuse.

And I didn’t know where he was going after this, but Percy was right: Michael wouldn’t let an angel that scarred back into his flock.

"...Pepper and I have been together all of Heaven, though there never was a start, and I loved her a lot. Being with someone long enough does that to you. I love all my brothers, and I love the Brothers- we have always been one, besides the fallen. And then Pepper fell."

"Now you speak,” I said, quietly, not wanting to draw him out of his sudden somber mood.

"I felled her. Blade right through her gut, no time for a trial. Cassiel dragged her away, tossed her to Earth. I had to follow, and never once was it anything other than devotion."

"What was she felled for?"

“Murder,” Percy said, like it was an irrelevant detail. "She is so much me. It's been like that. I had to know. Christina took her in off the streets, and I watched from afar until I realized she was a demon- then I came in, ready to gut her. But Pepper told me no. If she can feel that, I knew I could."

"Okay, I get the point. You learned the power of friendship and peace and the magic of being non discriminatory, and that's it?"

Percy blinked. "I suppose so. Weren't you more keen on hearing my story?"

"I thought it'd be less generic."

"Oh. Sorry."

"You did good. Sorry."

Rhamiel idly hissed.

"You should watch yourself,” I said, still recovering from that sudden slump of emotions I had stumbled upon. "If this is a meeting with everyone... well, not everyone wants peace. I'd be careful."

Percy nodded, and slipped his hand into his pocket. It emerged with a delicate green ring on. An angelsword, I'd have to guess. Probably he wasn't allowed to have that with him.

Maybe I shouldn't have suggested to the by-the-books deadly angel that he could have been in danger. Maybe putting him on edge like that had been a _bad_ idea.

He rubbed his ring as the elevator settled into place with a heavy sound of metal. He closed his eyes and said a brief prayer in angelic to Michael.

I was nervous for what came next.

* * *

 

It's our daily art corner again.

Percy (ah, sorry, percial) is a very generic boy. He's actually one of my oldest ocs- termi's world really began with Christina, Pepper, and Percy, and then expanded from there. Michael (we'll meet him later) and Kell probably came next, and Mannie was quite late in the process- Christina was to be the main character, actually. But though I love her, I'm glad I went with our more anti-hero/unreliable MC Mannie.


	11. Blood on the walls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something goes very wrong.

We stepped out of the elevator, Percy immediately stopping to straighten his clothes and fluff up his hair. We were at the pit, and I showed him the way to the secret meeting room- down a nearby staircase, until we were level with the rift. It didn't look like anything other than blackness. On the far side, reachable by creeping along the perimeter, were a set of dark metal doors.

"Where does this crevice lead?" Rhamiel asked me, still using a harsh whisper.

"Tarterus,” I said, “Real nasty place." Last thing I needed was him knowing it was a way out.

He narrowed his eyes like he didn't quite believe me.

The doors were unlocked, and beyond them was a long and curving tunnel, rougher than most, with wooden supports along the side. There wasanother way into this meeting room, I was sure of it. Just... didn't know where it was.

Percy scoffed at something. Maybe the status of this terrible hallway. When the end was finally in sight, he started to outpace me, and hurried straight through the doors to the meeting room without a word, ignoring the figure who was standing outside it.

The figure in question, actually, was someone I immediately recognized.

"Sydney!" I said.

She jumped a little. “Oh shit. You. What are you doing here? You were supposed to be gone by now!” She looked absolutely horrified at Rhamiel.

"Uh, yeah, got caught up in escorting that guy."

“He’s the angel’s representative, right? I guess this peace thing might actually have a chance.” Sydney sighed. “They’re all in there, of course, but they officially just threw me out. I just can’t believe this is happening, you know?”

"Isn't it your fault for not doing your job well enough or whatever? Your anti-peace side friends had a lot to say on the subject."

"They were being unfair. I gave them the _angelswords_ , for christ's sake. I don't see how some jerk friend of Charlie's deserves this more than me."

"I don't really care."

"That is pretty typical for you, isn't it? Being an apathetic mess." She was still sounding like her favorite cat had died, but a little of her irritating spark was back. After a second, she added, "I apologize if that sounded rude."

"You _are_ rude."

She frowned. "Hey, look: so, when I was growing up, I was given everything I ever wanted-"

I groaned.

"Are you honestly groaning at another human being's attempt to explain herself and her actions, and further help you understand?"

"Sorry, everyone's just always telling me these life stories, and rarely they're _that_ interesting, y'know? Maybe at first, but then they drag on and on."

"This is short."

"Okay."

"So I hated feeling spoiled and I’ve since developed this habit of trying to one-up everyone I meet. It’s not like I’m blind to myself you know. I realize how I am and how I act. I always think I’m funnier than I really am in the same way I think I’m smarter or more valuable than I really am. I always try too hard with these things."

"Done yet? Unwarranted self-loathing is always a bit of a downer to sit through." I eyed the doors, really wanting to hurry up and get in there.

" _Unwarranted_. And here I thought you hated me."

I blinked. "No. Of course not. I just- I'm just a bit hyper, and... Sydney, you're whatever, alright?"

"You're one of the few who think that,” Sydney said, "You can leave now. I'm just going to sit here and feel miserable for a bit. It's how I cope."

I really wanted to, but I kept still. "You've got to have some friends."

"I have people I think put up with me exceptionally well." She shrugged.

"That's really sad." My inherent dislike for Sydney was being taken over by pity and the unsettling realization she was _a lot_ like me. Which, fuck, was not a thought I liked having. "Who do you spend the most time with?"

"No one, but that doesn't really answer your question, does it?" She smiled, sadly. Oh god. She was really pathetic, and I was pathetic by extension. "Kell maybe."

Shit. Same. "He probably likes you then. Kell doesn't spend time with just anyone."

"I think he does spend time with 'just whoever' forcibly inserts themself into his life. I bother him sometimes. And he never yells."

"He likes you,” I said, "He's mentioned you." He hadn't.

Sydney laughed strangely. "No need to lie." But I could tell she was lying about that. "Go do whatever in there. Good luck on this doomed effort."

I kept standing still. "Why is it doomed?"

"You're really trying to humor me now, huh?" She took a deep breath, and spoke like she had said this many time before, like it was a long list she was used to bulleting, "Because things are never simple and morals don’t always line up with reality. If we stop the war, our economy will crumble- we depend on moving through people and uniforms and rations at the lighting pace we do and if it stops everything stops. We’ll have to reconstruct so much of our lifestyle and government to accommodate peace."

“Your argument against the end of war is that it’s too much of a hassle?” I asked with a smile. "I'm not for or against peace honestly, but that doesn't seem like a great reason."

“Essentially, yes. This isn’t some little hassle though.” She smiled. “It’s the biggest and baddest hassle of them all. I have a huge presentation somewhere about all the little and big things we'd have to change. Unemployment would skyrocket, our in house industries would have to close, most branches of the government would need to downsize... Hell's shaky enough as is."

“But what of the thousands dying in a meaningless war?”

“There’s no great cause or answer here. We have those lives to squander, and that’s it.”

“That’s a pretty big dismissal of life.”

“Mannie, all of us here have already died once. I like to think of it as finishing the job.”

"Brutal,” I said with a laugh.

She smiled, and mouthed the word go, jerking her head in the direction of the door.

"See you,” I said, turning through the doors and giving Rhamiel a quick gesture to stay put. He had done a good enough job of keeping quiet already, and I figured Sydney had known him long enough to keep him controlled.

I went through the doors as dramatically as I could, and everyone stopped- everyone meaning everyone, all of The Few gathered together in one place.

Or, actually, when I took the time to look I realized the leader, Alexander, was missing. And Phillip was... oh wait, holy shit, didn't Sydney say he had died this morning?

But otherwise, there were eleven people and Percy, and they all were very still.

"Hello all!" I said, cheerfully.

“Oh no,” groaned Kell, “Why are you here?”

“I led Percy here.”

“ _Percial_ ,” He whispered out of the corner of his mouth.

“We’re busy listening to Percial’s proposal, this really isn’t a place for you,” said Logan Doyle, sagittarius and library man.

“How did you even get here? Did Sydney lead you here again?” Said Stacy irately. He still had a cigar in his hands, and it still was unlit. Anti-smoking laws were tough down here.

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” mumbled Leigh.

“Enough of this.” Kelsey was here, looking incredibly bored. He shared a look with Kell and immediately everyone else was staring Kell down.

“He’s not my fucking babysitter you know.” I sighed. Having all these people stare at me wasn't amazing for my volatile emotional state. I knew their names, their star signs, and all the gossip. Having them watch me felt wrong.

“Please stay out of this Mannie,” said Kell flatly.

"No,” I said, "I just want to... sit down and listen?"

“Why do you have this need to stick your weird little hands into everything?” Glenn asked, rolling her eyes. Every time a new person spoke, I jerked my head and watched them steadily. My neck was going to be tired after this.

“You're really delaying us for time,” Percy said. I felt a twinge of sadness when I saw how angry he was with me. "Who are you? Someone who does not have authority to be here, yes?"

“I’m here because I ought to be,” I said, holding my hands up like everyone in the room was about to attack me. They were just annoyed, I had to remind myself, and I... was starting to hyperventilate. I started to make my way to the end of the meeting table where everyone was sitting, so that I might sit in Alexander's empty spot, but Percy blocked me.

He grabbed my wrist, not even particularly hard, but I jerked my hand free and jumped back. "Shut the _fuck_ up!"

“Mannie,” Kell said, gritting his teeth.

My eyes were wide and felt unreal, glassy and wet. I stared at the floor with a heavy blush, feeling like the absolute fuck up that I was. Just like Sydney, huh.

"Sorry, I just-" I tried my best to suck up all the gross feelings in my gut and turned to face Kell down. He had such nice eyes. "I am important,” I emphasized, "And I'm not an idiot, or a child, and I'm-"

I was thankful for the sudden thud against the door then, stopping me from furthering the terrible scene. There was another heavy thud a second later, and everyone watched the door. Another one and the door came flying open.

Rhamiel had Sydney by the neck, choking her and digging into the skin with his long, chewed up nails. They stumbled together like a drunken dance, before Rhamiel gave another push and toppled Sydney onto the meeting table.

Sydney was in full out demonic mode, often an effect that came with any sudden event, and Rhamiel used one of her delicate antlers to smash her head into the table. It broke off in his hand, and he stabbed it against her stomach, failing to break the skin.

Sydney was still trying to throw him off, but Rhamiel was animalistic, hissing something in what I don't think was angelic. Sydney managed to grab one of his wrists and flip him over as they struggled on top of the table, but he got up before she could react and held her down again, pressing down on her wrists with his mouth wide open.

Everything had happened so fast that we were all too stunned to react. But as everything began to sink in, everyone moved all at once.

And so did Rhamiel. He flitted his head back and forth and darted down to her neck. There was a vaguely animalistic sense about him as nibbled at her skin expectantly, before going right in and ripping out her throat.

The cartilage in his mouth came off surprisingly easy, but it wasn’t enough to send him backwards.

They say the amount of force it takes to bite a baby carrot is the same as the amount it takes to bite off a finger. You’d figure the soft tissue of the neck would be even easier.

He spat out the bloody chunk of flesh he had pulled and went in for another bite, this time tearing off even more. Her neck was all red now, as was her clothes, and the table, and his clothes, and the clothes of everyone sitting less than a foot from this.

It was a terrible mess, all those fleshy layers gaping open and spilling that iron scent throughout the room.

He chewed at the skin in his mouth, unexpectedly and unsure. He turned it around his mouth, each soft crunch sending another stream of unclean blood dribbling down his face.

He looked at me like a raccoon that had just been discovered rifting through the trash, his face oddly guilty and yet very confused, and spat out the glob of skin and blood from his mouth.

People were moving this whole time through, but a mix of shock, disgust, fear and... time itself seemed to have Rhamiel at an advantage. Guns were being unholstered, swords were being summoned and claws were drawn-

But Rhamiel licked his mouth clean of the blood and slipped her ring off her finger in a quick motion. I almost expected him to bite it off. And then he was gone, quicker than any of us could ever hope.

In what I could only imagine to be a motion of spite, he slapped my extended hand as he passed like a kid pulling off a prank.

There was blood on my hand. If we wanted to get figurative, there was blood on my hands as well. There was blood everywhere. He had been soaked by that blood, and it had scattered everywhere as he had run off.

Sydney lay dead on the table. Her blood was like an artistic fountain, falling off the table in a downpour. I’m not scared of blood. I’m not scared of dead bodies. It’s just a body. Same thing as an alive body.

Just with more blood.

“What the fuck,” said someone. Could’ve been anyone. It probably was everyone.


	12. Coursing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mannie makes things worse.

Kell seemed like he was considering a response to what had just transpired, and everyone else was watching him in anticipation. “I told you, he's not some pet you can just drag around.”

“In my defense I’m fairly certain you never said that.”

“Does that even matter? If I didn’t say it, someone else did, or maybe it should have just been your common fucking sense that told you that maybe there was a _reason_ we only kept him in chains. You know we can’t trust-” He glanced at Percy. “ _People like him_.”

“I’d love a recap here. Is there any context to a woman getting her throat ripped out, or is that normal here in Hell?” Asked Percy dismissively.

“What- no, it’s not normal here. Why would it be? We’re not barbarians,” said Lane.

“Excuse me for the concern, but in Heaven we don’t typically have this happen in our meetings.”

“Do you guys have ‘meetings’?” Leigh asked.

“Can we stop and deal with Mannie first?” Kell re-centered everyone’s attentions towards me and my posture got worse. If I had a chair to be sitting in, I'd be balling up.

“Can we not?” I said quietly.

"Mannie, I- I wanted to talk to you alone. But when things like this happen, I'm not sure _what_ I feel in regards to you. Except, obviously, _quite upset_."

"Sydney's dead," Noel offered, like her dead body wasn't a foot from her face.

“You guys kicked her out!” This was not the right thing to say, though the looks of repulsion on everyone's faces was more from the blood than my own social blunders. "I didn't realize he'd do that."

"You left him _alone_ with her,” Kelsey stressed, “What did you expect?"

"Him to be... more polite...?"

"People like him _can't_ be,” Charlie, the capricorn emphasized. All the people in this room were starting to melt into one under this thick layer of rust and death, and I was sick of spinning to meet everyone’s gaze. God, eleven was a lot of people.

I was responsible for Sydney's death. That... was it. I knew it, it was obvious, and there was no way I couldn't be blamed for how much blood pooling around my shoes.

But I never wanted to face the consequences for any of my actions. Kell was rare to lose his temper, but he was grimacing at me now, holding his chin in one hand. Blood on his fingernails.

Only one thing to do, then: "That's the thing about locking up angels like him, I mean. Torture them for too long and they get a little stir-crazy." I wasn't even trying to make it sound like a natural sentence.

“What.” Said Percy as Kell bit his lip, “Who was that? What was his name? You said you hadn’t been abducted any of us. Are there more?” It was fantastic to watch Percy blow up like this, mainly because it took the pressure off me.

“Look, Rhamiel was the only-”

“Rhamiel? _Rhamiel?_ Rhamiel was one of my closest friends! What did you do that made him crack like that? _And what happened to his face?_ ” When people get angry they always try to make themselves as tall as possible, and the already tall Percy was standing on his tiptoes. “Trust me, no one’s going to want to hear this. The deal’s off, for one. And for another, I’m sure that there’s going to be dire action taken against you. And-” He had been running his fingers against his ring for awhile now, perhaps deciding on the best time to draw it. “This too.”

With a jerky motion like his sword was already drawn, Percy summoned his blade to his hand. Then, like it was a fresh pair of chopsticks, he pulled at the hilt and suddenly had twin blades. They solidified slowly, going from a pale green light to solid silver.

Cautionary, Noel stood up, hands above her head, a ring clearly shining from her middle finger. “I’m also armed. Let’s have this go peacefully. If the deal is off, please leave without another life being taken.” After a second she added, “You’re also terribly outnumbered. Two others are armed, and three of us are hellhounds."

Percy didn’t falter in the slightest, but continued to search through everyone in the room. “I’m not scared of you. I'm faster, I'm more skilled, and it'll take a lot more than a demon poorly trying to use an angelic weapon to down me." He fixed his jaw in that way many unsure people do. “I’d love to gank one of you two.” He used his blade to point at Kelsey and Kell. " _Aviinox, ver? Aerdens?_ Killed lots of us, you did."

Kell just looked confused at the angelic nicknames he had been bestowed. "You've probably killed plenty of us as well."

He didn't respond, and pointed his blades towards me. I cowered back a little more than I already had been. “You’re pretty tempting too.”

“Hey, I’m the one who freed Rhamiel, remember? We bonded a lot on the elevator. I’m on your side.”

"You are a demon."

I laughed hoarsely. "You never know!" I said weakly, hands in the air like I was a sitcom star saying their catchphrase.

No, I wasn't actually a demon. Saying that now would not do much to change his mind.

"You said you were important. This was a lie."

"So I’m a compulsive liar." I shrugged. "It's no excuse to kill me."

"Actually, why don't you? Mannie’s been nothing but trouble lately,” Kell said. He was speaking deliberately slow, and looking at me with a gaze that clearly was requesting my cooperation. I was immortal, sure, but that didn't make death _fun_. Fuck the greater good, I just wanted to get out of here.

“Can you believe Kell’s cruel dismissal of life? He’s sort of a terrible monstrous guy,” I said. “What did you people call him and his boyfriend again, _the blood vultures?_ I don’t know about you, but I don’t trust anyone who has earned themselves a title that could also double as a shitty band name.”

“Holy shit Mannie, what side are you on?" Kell said, as Percy faced him again.

"I-I mean-" Okay, I definitely didn't want Kell to die. "All of them are killers. You need at least twenty to be just _considered_ for upper management around here."

Percy grunted, scanning the room again.

I continued. "Scorpio, Saggitarius, and Aquarius are the military generals in order of lowest to highest- I'd start there if you want revenge. Taurus is a terrible dresser. Cancer smokes, which is disgusting, and ironically enough, causes cancer. Pisces makes a mockery of the concept of a fair trial, and-"

"Shut up,” Percy said stiffly.

"Alright." I gave him a little bow. "I'll be on my way then." I quickly made a bee-line for the door.

"No, stay here.”

I turned right around.

“Is there any chance you’re going to leave without killing one of us?” Asked Glenn.

“No,” said Percy.

"Please just kill Mannie."

"Hey!" I said.

“You’re the logical death here,” reminded Kell in that slow pace, trying to remind me it was pretty much my duty to off myself.

“But you’re nothing,” said Percy glancing down at me, “These others, at least they hold some importance in your world. But not you.”

“Oh yes, that’s a key point. I’m nothing,” I said enthusiastically, “Why would you waste your time killing me when you gain literally nothing from it? Especially since I’ll just come back to life immediately after.”

“You’ll... revive after death?” Lane said slowly.

“That was supposed to be our trump card Mannie. Why did you have to go out and announce it like that?” Kell hit his forehead in frustration. “Now he’s actually going to have to kill someone. Actually. For real. No reviving.”

“Why do you possess that power?” Asked Percy, slowly, his eyes seeming to bore into my skull.

“Uh, beats me to be honest,” I said cheerfully, "If you’re not going to kill me, am I free to go? I bet I can wrangle Rhamiel down to normalcy.”

“Alright, fine. You aren’t worth anything at all it seems, not even a death. Don’t call any security down here. I will leave when I’m ready.”

“Excellent,” I said, feeling very, very relieved. I almost closed the door behind me before I remembered something. “Oh right! Have any of you seen Blake?”

"Sydney came by my office earlier about a human. Left a file there for you,” Kell said, staring at me, his green eyes clear even at this distance. Something in his voice suggested he thought he was going to die. Something else reminded me that it'd be my fault, again.

I closed the door.

 

Rhamiel had gone to Pride. Unfortunately, Pride is a very large city. Fortunately, strange men covered in blood are easy to track.

A blood trail took me down a couple streets and to a boutique. A police line kept me out.

“Murder,” A cop said, “A stabbing.” She smoked a cigarette. “Can’t say anything else.”

A pile of bloody clothes were particularly of interest.

From there it was going to be a bit harder.

“Have you seen a man with square strips of skin missing from his face?” I asked around. A few thought they had but ended up describing someone else. Many simply hadn’t.

“He had those strips all over- I wouldn’t call them square, but they were precise. Some of them were older than the others. He looked out of his mind with fright, and I caved in and gave him money for a meal. Sent him down to Issa’s diner. Why are you looking for him?”

Time was on my side and I was feeling frantic. Something about Rhamiel made him feel like a mess I should’ve cleaned up a while ago.

It was meant to be in the style of one of those very old diners that don’t exist anymore. All the furniture was bright, sleek, and often red. A few people were in here, emphasis on _few_ \- the moment I slept in I could tell he wasn't here.

I stopped a waitress who was carrying a grilled cheese sandwich to one of the tables. I was reminded then how hungry I was- I guess I had lost my knack for going without food for long periods of time because I was damn starving. But that wasn’t important right now.

“Have you seen a man covered in weird scars?”

“I see a lot of people with a lot of strange things on their body, you’re going to have to be more specific.”

“They’re pretty square, unevenly aged and precisely cut.”

“More?”

Who else could match that description? “Uh, Korean, new clothes, hasn’t bathed in a long time, maybe looking either very angry or very scared.”

“He was here,” said the waitress, her eyes looking up as if trying to search her mind, “He started to order something but another man recognized him. They starting chatting enthusiastically in another language and left together.”

“Do you know where they went?”

“The other man, he mentioned a rather infamous nightclub, The Blues and The Banes. If they’re heading there, good luck. It’s incredibly exclusive. Very few even know where it is, let alone are allowed in.”

“And I don’t suppose you’re one of the them?”

“Oh god no. Do I look like I have the sort of money?”

I left in a huff. So much for finding Rhamiel, he had managed to luck his way into the most exclusive club in the city. Plus he had run into someone who was without doubt another angel.

I knew where the place was, as one gets to know these things in the city. But getting in had gotten hard since they started having a guard.

To find an angel I needed one. Angelswords leave a very distinctive wound on demons, a sort of grey burn that spreads through the flesh. The police would know that the killer was an angel, and if they knew, the public knew.

Backtracking to the crime scene, I spotted exactly who I had expected to see in a side alley, watching the police. As tacky as usual.

"I thought you were just visiting here for that one day,” I said.

"Oh! Hello, Blake's friend,” Pepper said, “How could I _not_ come back to my favorite hellhole while my best friend is doing peace talks?"

I decided it would be a good idea not to mention the turn that had taken right away. "I need some help tracking down an angel-”

“Oh, that’s what this is about,” She said darkly, “I’m not doing you any favors. Scram.”

"He's very dangerous."

"We all are,” Pepper said, matter-of-factly, and I was reminded that the crime Percy had felled her for was _mass murder_.

“He killed one of The Few. Don’t tell anyone yet though.”

She rolled her eyes. “ _Which one?_ ”

“Sydney. Uh, Sydney Westman.”

“Oh, that’s great!” She had the habit of bouncing on her toes as she talked, giving her the appearance of constantly jumping. “We’re much better off without her. Who did this?”

"Rhamiel."

"Didn't know _him_ , but I tell you, now I want to!" Pepper said joyfully, "Any clue where he might be?"

"Blues and Banes. Another angel took him there."

“There’s one angel in Hell that I know of, and he is the type to slum up at the B&B. His name’s Salt, he’s a fallen, and they allow him to live here as long as he works as an informant on angelic matters.”

“Salt and Pepper. Really.”

Again with the eye rolls. You’d think you’d get dizzy. “We didn’t _plan_ it, okay. We just sorta happened to choose matching names when we fell.” There was a beat. "I’d rather reunite you with Blake you know."

"Blake?" I said, nearly forgetting. Shit, Rhamiel was sort of pressing- but. _Blake_.

"Name ring a bell? He’s been looking for you whenever and wherever he can."

"Yeah, no- I need to take care of this first." Her gaze made me feel guilty. At least she led the way with a lightning pace, a few steps ahead at all times and rarely looking back at me.

The silence got to be unnerving at some point, and I decided I needed something to get her talking. "What was Heaven like?"

"Oh!" Boy, she sounded _delighted_ to be asked. "We are amazing! I don’t mean that in some down-on-you way, I just mean we totally rock, you know? Like Heaven is the most amazing place and it is so beautiful and everyone is so happy with everyone else. Like, paradise and all that.”

She turned to look at me and I wondered what I was supposed to be adding to this conversation. “Uh, yeah, sounds nice.”

Satisfied, she continued, “Everyone’s pretty much best friends. Me and the other girls didn’t do much real work- we weren’t even allowed in the military, a huge disappointment to me since I always thought chopping people up with those swords would be _wicked awesome_. But I mean, it was so pretty. Huge fields of grasses and every sort of flower. Breezes and hills and trees and water and stuff. You’d have to be there! And like, even the buildings were pretty. Our walls were this shimmering white stone- nothing was better than sitting on top of the outer wall and just looking out over everything else.”

She paused, expecting another response from me. “Cool...?”

Smiling, she went on. The speed she was speaking at was probably a new record. “Me and Percy used to spend every day out on the hills just chilling. There’s nothing better than curling up in someone else’s arms and watching the sunset! But not in the illegal sense."

"Seems a little totalitarian to deny you guys love."

"Sex? Ew! Romance? Lame!" Pepper laughed. "I know now about the other kind of love, and I see its appeal, but it’s just not for me. I liked our system and our rules. Michael _always_ knows best."

"What's up with Michael?"

Pepper turned again to look at me, clearly not understanding what I was trying to ask. "Michael gave us our Grace. He loves us all. He protects."

"You're a little more into that mantra than I'd expect for a fallen angel."

"Heaven was the best place I ever lived. And pretty much the only one, of course, but I’d give anything to go back. I love Christina, and the humans, and even some of Hell, but I'd forget it all to go back.”

I had a thought then, a comment, but it would come off as too rude. _Cult_. Yeah, probably shouldn't throw that word around too much.

After waiting a moment or two for Pepper's thought to feel settled, I decided to casually change the subject. “What’s the deal with Percy though?” We were nearly to the nightclub now- though of course, calling it that sounded silly. It was really more of a restaurant and lounge.

“Percy? Oh, he’s a downright darling! Me and him have always been so close." She chattered like an elderly woman talking about her prized miniature dog.

“Yeah, that’s nice and all, but like, _what’s up_ with him?”

“Nothing’s up with him?”

“Something’s up with him.”

“No no no, what are you talking about? Percy’s my best friend. I know he’s perfectly fine.”

“Okay, so look, he sort of- actually never mind.” I decided it might be for the best if she didn’t end up learning he had all of The Few trapped in a conference room so he could kill one of them. She’d probably only encourage him.

"How pointless of you to bring up!" Pepper sighed dramatically. "Here."

We had been walking as twisty of a route that one can take in a city made of perfect lines. It was hard to distinguish the levels of wealth in the city- every building was made of the same grey stone. However, I knew we were heading to a poorer area, the shops beginning to look more dingy and the roads began to crack. The people were the same, but that’s a given.

Despite the perfect measures of all the streets, there were still small alleys between some buildings, and Pepper slipped into a particularly large one. A string of small bulbs lights gave the ally a dull blue illumination, one that barely covered the small little courtyard at the end. A large set of double doors sat in the back, wooden and no doubt full of splinters. There was no sign.

The doors were best described as barn doors, heavy and creaky. The area they opened too could also have been described as a barn; despite the exterior clearly being an ordinary skyscraper, the inside was dark, wooden and covered in hay. There were no signs of life. What did Hell even need this hay for?

Behind one of the bales of hay, there was another wooden door. Pepper knocked on it authoritatively. “Pepper, here to see Salt. I know he’s up there with a guest, and I have someone for him.” The door opened slowly.

The wood of the door was a facade, for on the other side was a little room that looked right out of a hotel. The other side of the door was all steel, bulletproof and electronic. A small windowed area concealed a security guard's eyes who watched us with care.

A particularly large elevator took up the other wall. On the last wall was a plaque, in what was likely solid gold, said:

The Blues and the Banes

5/5/1/2

"Yesterday came today"

A reference to the first cycle change. God, what a doozy that must have been.

Pepper called the elevator and we got in. Moving on, moving forward.

Blake, soon.

But for now, I breathed, and thought of Rhamiel.


	13. Constant confinement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhamiel shares his story.

I had been taking a lot of elevator rides recently. I didn’t have time to reflect on that though, because the elevator was fast as fuck. I was first unsettled by the speed, and before I could really catch myself the doors opened.

A good secret nightclub would have a little lobby area to fully ready the fancy folks who'd were entering, a little place with maybe a classy bar and a polite doorman.

The Blues just opened to the heart of the club, a short stage with a section of tables and chairs. On most nights, you'd walk right out of here into some sort of deafening noise, a mildly good singer determined to pierce your eardrums or a dreadfully loud band.

The place was a long line of misaligned ideas. To the left of the performance area was a series of couches put together like a maze. Beyond that was a series of nice, wooden chairs and booths by the window, as well as a proper kitchen.

It was midday- three fifty exactly- and the place was rightly deserted. A couple of scroungy looking people were scattered throughout. Some sort of music was playing, but it wasn’t what you’d expect from this sort of place. Likely it was some security personnel playing their favorite tracks before the place actually opened later tonight.

Rhamiel and the other angel sat at a booth. Rhamiel’s gaze was fixed out the window, and he didn’t even look as we slide in.

“Pepper,” said the man who was evidently Salt, “You’re here.” He had pure white hair that was growing out, his darker roots clearly exposed.

“Doing some escorting. This is Mannie, a friend of Blake’s and a courier of sorts who just brought me the wondrous news that Sydney Westman is dead.”

“Yes.” Everyone’s attention slowly panned to Rhamiel.

Rhamiel had a young face. I don’t normally like to talk about people’s appearances, nor do I like to dwell on them. He had those nasty scars all over, of course, but I always thought he had one of those really childish faces if you could somehow remove them. Large eyes, soft skin and a bad bone structure.

Salt and Pepper both looked young- most angels did- maybe even in that same youthful period that divides the young from the children. Rhamiel had just barely slipped below that border, dangling right on the edge with a single finger holding on.

He still had blood on his face, a smearing around his mouth and chin had left a dark hue, one that was purer still on the spots he had missed below his chin. He looked overwhelmingly guilty too, which was a nice thing for him to do. I’d hate to have to argue with him about the whole ‘ripping people’s throats out unexpectedly is weird and not good’ thing.

I had left to find him, I _had_ found him, and I was wholly unprepared. He had simply been a bad plan to impress a near stranger. Now he was blood-stained my responsibility.

“Hello,” He said in a soft voice, like he had recently forgotten to cough, “I want you to look at this ring,” he pulled the angelsword out of his pocket and dropped it into my palm.

“Hey,” I said. I turned the ring over in my hands. It made of a dark metal, thick and heavy, with a large and uneven white quartz as the centerpiece. The leather lining was soft to touch, and I ran my fingers along it as I spoke, “I liked Sydney, you know.”

Like saying that helped.

“You hated her.”

“It’s frightening how people’s opinions change when someone dies.” I was satisfied with the thought, but after a few seconds it felt cheesy. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

“I told you I needed a weapon. I told you I was seeking a weapon. I found a weapon. I took it.” His eyes finally carried emotion. “Very much planned and very much logical.”

“Look,” I said, and I ran my hands through my hair in frustration. I frowned. “Look, okay. Just- Look. I mean, I know-” I closed my eyes.

“You should’ve have bothered coming here. I will take care of myself fine.”

“I know that. _I know that_ ,” I said, “Look, I don’t normally get myself tangled in these things, these concerns of other people. I thought it’d be a good idea to- I don’t know, bring you to justice? But I guess- I guess I don’t really know what to do. I guess I only came here because you owe me one.”

“I owe you?”

“I’m fucking sick of hearing other people speak. But- tell me why. Tell me what happened with you.” Pepper and Salt were grinning at the both of us from across the table. I shooed them away to the other side of the room.

“I did promise,” he said, soft skinned, like a lamb. “We don’t have time in Heaven. We have moments, and we have scenes. Events. No days, just suns. So I do not know how long I have been here.”

“A year,” I said. “I’m pretty sure it’s a year.” I hadn’t known of Rhamiel’s existence- no one had- but I could remember a vague speech about a year back by Alexander Scott, the Ophiuchus. It’d been the first time he’d been seen in public since his election, and it wasn’t long after that Sydney had been put in office, and the angelswords had become part of the military.

“A year without starlight. A room without dark.” Rhamiel didn’t seem surprised that had it had been that long- or was a year shorter than he had expected? He gazed out the window. “I was walked three times a day. Fed once. Every other minute was on my back, facing the lights. Every so often they would lay me on the table and take my skin. This must have been on schedule, but it always felt sudden.”

“That’s fucked up, but honestly, you could have had it worse.”

“I had it how I had it. Always the lights, never the sun, and without a night. _We_ do not like the stars-” He emphasized ‘we’ strangely, holding it out, like to be associated with other angels was something he had to question- “We take comfort in knowing they exist. They are omens, they are death, but we see them, and we knew. I saw nothing, I knew nothing, just black, white, and silver.”

“How did they capture you? Hell’s always been against taking angels alive.”

“I was left for dead,” Rhamiel jerked his head in what struck me as a very casual manner, a sort of implied ‘obviously’ on his part. “I may have died. Thought I had. I woke under the body of another, and crawled until I could walk. A man found me, and carried me to his home by the woods, and took me away from everything good. _Ad pecc_.”

“Towards sin?” I hated angelic.

“Yes.”

“What did you tell him had happened? You must have been covered in blood.”

“My wings were out.” That settled that. A man finds a downed god in the woods. What do you do but accept your place in this new dichotomy of Heaven and Hell? I’d gone through something similar when I was younger. You don’t turn away, though. You should, but you don’t.

Rhamiel shook his head, like the next few words took a bit more effort to force from his mouth. “I was led astray by that man, and a new day. And that new life. And the idea of a new anything. Nothing was real, old, and suddenly, neither was I. There was only a forbidden promise found in the flesh of an unknown man: humanity.”

“Oh shit. That’s some deep as fuck prose. How long did that take you?” Try as I was, it was hard shaking Rhamiel’s words out of my mind. His eyes were wide- well, considering. His right one was still awkwardly clenched, watery and forced shut by a soft pink cut. Everything he said sounded dead. There was nothing I could do to lighten this- he looked and spoke like he no longer had control of his muscles, like I was hallucinating the sounds from his mouth and staring at a long-suffered corpse.

“All I’ve been thinking about, light after light, is what I will tell Michael, and what I shouldn’t have done. And that shouldn’t is everything. I tried to never leave that man, but dreams haunted my breaths, and Michael knew my thoughts. He called, and I came, programmed again.”

“How did Michael react?” Even my voice was sounding dead, sobered by him, ignoring the soft rock from the kitchen, the light chatter of Pepper from a few tables down.

“I never saw him. Heaven did not welcome me, my brothers were cold and my urn was cast and filled with ashes and burnt funeral lilies. To survive was not to live, but to escape everything I’d always known I was. Everything my brothers knew about me had died when I had, in the woods, in the darkness.”

I would’ve made another rude quip about Rhamiel’s strange use of prose, the sudden jump in eloquence, but. I wasn’t going to. I was going to breath, and smell the old cigarette smoke that haunted this booth, while Rhamiel tapped against the window.

“Every step I took was poisoned after him, chased by emotions I had never been allowed. Everything tasted bitter after Earth, like dirt and a lack of sugar. It was his fault, and I had to get back. Anything, I’d do, and everything, it took. When I was put back into the war, I took the first chance I could to... do what I had to do. Killed my squad. Promised the demons I’d cooperate. They didn’t trust me, tied me up and talked it over. One of them, a prisoner dressed like a general, leaned over. Slipped me a ring and told me she could help.”

“Why did you trust her?”

“She told me what I needed to hear, so I freed myself and killed the lot of them too. The prisoner- her name was Sydney Westman. And she bashed my head in. She ended my life, and brought me to the light.”

“Is that why you killed her?”

“I killed her because it was time. Because she was there, and I needed the ring. Because I need to get to Earth, and I need to find _him_. Because I need another life, and a real, real night. Again.”

“It isn’t hard to get to Earth,” I said. “I could show you.”

Rhamiel didn’t react. “We’ve always thought of you as creatures of the dark, slithering in caves, covered in dirt. We were of the light, of Grace, dwelling. But now I know you are of light and we are of sun: you never rest, never cease trying to attain what we allow to pass.”

“Look. I’ll take you there. Eventually. Maybe.”

“You shouldn’t.” He sighed, and it was relief just seeing him moving, breathing. “He didn’t love me. Michael did. I do not deserve light, or love. Just the blood I give myself. And... I’m done. I haven’t suffered, I have been punished, and that is what I have, and am, and...”

“Rhamiel.”

“Please don’t say my name.”

“Rhamiel, Michael doesn’t own you. Michael doesn’t love you. He loves having you, the concept of you, the fact that you love him... he’s a leader, not a human. And I don’t doubt that you’re awful, but don’t you still deserve the right to a fucking nature walk? It isn’t hard. I’ll take you to Earth, and you can just stay with me until we figure something out.”

“No.” Rhamiel sounded a little alarmed by my proposition. “I brought this to myself.”

“Yeah. Obviously. But who gives a shit about consequences, okay? I do generally have a lot against you, but I’m not a good person. You’re admitting your mistakes, ri-”

“No.”

“Fuck off and stop trying to get me to pity you. I already do.”

“It’s okay. I’m running out of words.”

“One year of sunlight and it takes you only a few minutes.”

He propped his head up by his hand. “You’d think all those hours of nothingness would foster creativity, but I’ll admit. It was mostly pain, and existential crises. Am I real? Is this real? Were the stars real? Sometimes I felt like I fell into a dream. Sometimes it felt like there was a dream within my dream, where I was human, where I knew other words.” He paused, again taking his time to continue. “Ha!”

“Ha?”

“Ha! Who cares. Who, as you say, gives a fuck. I know only what circled through my head this last, long year: the mantras of angels. The hymns someone wrote, and every last twinge of song that I’ve been repeated over and over again. So you know. Fuck. I gotta get back there.”

He was coming to life again, still a little like a jerky animatronic, still a little stiff. Programmed. Lying. “I’ll help you,” I promised, “Just one thing first.”

“You said that earlier. Clearly trying to get me to ask _what_.”

“Well,” I said, “Blake.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BTW: Wondering if anyone has noticed several of my chapter titles are references to something....


	14. Revered return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mannie goes looking for Blake, seeking reconciliation.

Blake. Yep. Time to start dealing with matters I really cared about. Unfortunately, Rhamiel was on the verge on becoming one of those things- I had a weak heart for sob stories, I’ll confess.

He didn’t seem to care that I stood up and walked off. I glanced back as I settled down across from Pepper, at her table a few rows back, and he was back to gazing out the window. Probably working up some more killer prose.

What a dumb kid. I kept his ring, and if he noticed I hadn’t returned it, he had yet to notice.

Pepper had acquired a plate of chips and a selection of sauces, and I stuffed my face. It’d been too long since I had last eaten, and Pepper looked a bit indigent as I said, “Hey. Let’s get going.”

As the sky began to darken, people began to gather in the club. They were the rich sort of folks, high-contrast suits and well fitted dresses. It wasn’t the sort of environment I wanted to hang around in. We left The Blues and The Banes, and Pepper led me down another winding path through the city blocks.

“What’s Blake been up to then?” I asked.

“Oh, you’re going to want to ask him yourself.”

“I know that, but he’s not here right now and you are fully capable of telling me.”

“You should work on your patience,” giggled Pepper, “Anyway, he’s been talking about you a ton! I can’t wait to see the look on his face when he sees you.”

When I failed to respond, she tried again. “Aren’t you excited? I think I’m more excited than you are, and it’s your reunion.”

“You seem like you’re always excited with everything.”

“Pretty much.”

“Doesn’t that like, make everything you’re excited about sort of meaningless?”

“That’s an awful way to think of things. Like, imagine that you have a bunch of houses or whatever and you upgrade them until they’re all the same size. They’re all equal size-wise, but inside they are very different and they’re all bigger than everyone else’s houses, so who cares?”

“Not a good metaphor.”

“I think you’re just jealous that you’re so sad all the time. Or whatever.”

“I’m _not_ sad.”

“You’re not the one looking at your face right now.”

The sun was setting fast, at a pace appropriate for an October night. The stars here were preprogrammed so shift like the sky above- except, instead of the proper constellations, all of them were visible in the dome of the sky.

They shined as bright as they would from a secluded hill, a circle of the zodiac. Ophiuchus, the thirteenth sign that Alexander Scott used, lay in the center of the sky.

With nightfall, the streets lit up. Two glowing paths showed the edges of the street, another carefully planned feature of the city. The foot traffic didn’t slow either, many people still heading to and from work and a large majority slinking off to the bars.

“Blake’s in the hospital,” explained Pepper, “Not like, literally in the hospital. Just visiting. We’re going to meet him down in the back.”

“That’s never a good place to meet someone.”

She laughed a particularly stilted laugh, “You’ll see.”

The hospital looked like nearly all other hospitals, very large, nearly square, and with a slight curve on one side. We waited in the darkness of a nearby alley, illuminated only by the unnatural lights from above.

Alarms began to ring out, and a figure scampered out of back door near the top floor, carefully jumping down onto the fire escape and running until he could leap onto the ground in a cloud of dust.

Blake looked up, grinning, and then full-out laughing all open mouthed and toothy. “Mannie!” He said, running over. “Thought you’d have moved on by now.”

“Me too. Or, uh, died.”

“Yeah, that was always an option.”

Something was wrong with him, and it took me far too long to figure out what- Most of his right arm was missing, cut at the elbow.

Staring at him and his wide smile, I didn’t know where to start. So I stuck to the present. “What the hell happened to your arm?”

“Don’t you mean, what the hell happened to _me?_ ”

The alarms picked up again, shriller this time.

“Yeah, and what the fuck that alarm is about.”

He laughed and we ran.

 

Their hideout was exactly what I had expected it to be. Dark, moldy, boarded up- the quintessential place for dirty rebels to sleep on damp rotting floors.

The upstairs had been mostly blocked off by debris, and the one accessible room was closed off for the leader’s use. The downstairs had two rooms, one mostly dirt with an amalgamated meeting table in the center and a camping light in the middle, while the other seemed to be a mostly intact kitchen. The fridge was full of food, and sleeping bags took up all the floor space.

“I actually really like how scattered it is in here,” Blake said, “Gives it more of a.. rag-tag feeling.”

There were several other people in the base when we arrived, and Blake gave me their introductions very quickly. Two of them had legitimate jobs down in lower Hell, a secretary and a salesman. Two were prostitutes, which was still a respectable job, just not one I could relate to. Another was good at computers I guess. Blake was talking very quickly.

They did all look rag-tag though. Rag-tag revolutionaries, absolutely. Hell had a habit of generating those.

Blake hadn’t settled down since we arrived. If anything, he seemed more energetic. Sometimes he’d just look over at me and smile and I ended up finding myself doing the same thing an awful lot as well. I couldn’t help feel pretty content, despite everything else that was happening. I mean, Blake was here now. Alive. Missing a hand, yeah, but that didn’t exactly change who he was.

I hadn’t been like this with him before, had I? Something about him felt warranting of being missed.

“We need to talk,” I said.

“Obviously. Here, I’ll show you my favorite place in this building.”

Upstairs, Blake navigated through the debris, at one point apologizing to me as he squeezed through a narrow gap in the rubble. Past the collapsed wall it was a lot easier to walk, though creaky. Blake kept to the left wall and darted through the first door, and climbed through the window there.

Out the window was the fire escape and on the top of the fire escape was the roof. “I like to come up here and just watch sometimes. It’s kind of nostalgic actually.”

A rusty pool chair had been placed near the edge, but neither of us chose to sit there. Instead we both sat right on the edge and let our feet hang over the street below.

“You used to live in the city then?”

“Think so. Somewhere to the west, maybe.”

“I... know where your file is. Sydney left it with Kell.”

“Do you think it’s a good idea to take a look?”

“I can’t imagine it being a bad one,” I said, “Sorry. Not about that, just- sorry, you know? I want to practice my sincerity.”

“When have you lied?” Anything he said seemed to polite, like an astute observation free from opinion. Like he wasn’t going to judge me.

“Constantly. I don’t know. I must have at some point.” I fidgeted. “What happened to your arm.”

“Cut it off,” Blake said, laughing a little, but looking seriously uncomfortable, “Pepper did it.”

“Ah, yeah, her. _Why_ exactly did she do that?”

“The tracker, remember? I couldn’t get it off, and I started getting super anxious about being carted off to die, and I thought... well. Better an arm than death, right?”

“Does she even know how to properly do that?”

“No. It was supposed to be cut right at above the bracelet, but she messed up, and- It had to go, right? This or death.” He had his arm covered by his shirt sleeve, but I’d guess the cut was more around the elbow. “My pain tolerance is a lot higher than it used to be. It’s okay, now- hurts, but less.”

“What were you doing at the hospital?”

“Um, just sort of... like any good rebellious group, we’ve been doing some unsightly work as well. I don’t like to get caught up in it, I swear. But it happens. It was this old man, Philip. He was dying, and I had to knock a few cables loose, that’s all. Probably it was a humane way to go. Hopefully painless.”

“I heard he was dead.”

“Someone attacked him in the street, left him critically injured. I guess he was on his way out anyways, but the others here wanted it to be absolute. I think they might have been testing me.”

“That was murder,” I said, looking him in the eye. Blake didn’t seem the type to kill, but it hardly changed my opinion of him. Everyone down here had dirty hands.

“I know, it’s ghastly, but in a way we’re just trading one or two lives for hundreds. That’s how Pepper explained it at least. I’m not nearly as charismatic... as her.”

“Do you have a _thing_ for her?”

“You don’t like to comment on things, do you? Just listening and absorbing like a machine.”

“I’ll comment that I’m not too fond of the comparison.”

“Sorry. Pepper’s nice. I don’t know if I’m in any state to go around having crushes, but sure? She’s cute. I like happy people,” Blake said, “Why do you care?”

“Let’s get that file so you can leave this place,” I said, not willing to explain Pepper probably was playing with his feelings on purpose.

“Ooo, avoiding the subject, huh? You got a crush of your own?” He jabbed me with his elbow. “Please don’t. I would have literally no way to react to that.”

“No. God no.”

“And now I’m sort of offended.” He smiled. “I’ve come to like this city. You sort of abandoned me, so that was a damper to my spirit, but you came back. So now all I feel is pleased. I never went through a rebellious phase in my teens, and I guess this is me compensating for it. I know it’s all trivial and pointless, but it’s really good to just scream ‘Fuck the system!’ once in a while, you know?”

“All revolutions fail.”

“Aw, boo. You ever been to Earth, Mannie? Revolutions are the people’s favorite game. Everyone loves an underdog.” Blake looked off at the city below, spiraling barely, a mess of light and darkness. Down the road, the bass drummed from a loud bar, and a high pitched shout echoed from the east. “We might not achieve anything, but it’s fun. And I like having fun.”

“So you don’t want to leave?”

“Maybe not forever. I’m making new friends here, right? I still need to reunite with my family, reclaim whatever is left up there, but... I might come back, instead of starting over. Maybe I’ll sell my soul proper to do it too.”

“What would you sell your soul for?”

“At this point, I’m content, you know? Jeez, what’re the limits? A billion dollars for my family?” Blake laughed. “What did you sell yours for?”

“A friend.”

That was true.

“You’re going to have to open up to me at some point, Mannie. If we’re ever going to be friends.”

“I... hope we can be.” God, I was weak. I stood up. “Let’s hurry up and get that file. I have some business to attend to elsewhere.”

“More mysteries, huh. I’m curious as to what _you_ were up to as well.”

So I told him, which took a while: About Rhamiel, my sad quest to impress him, and the eventual bloodbath I had abandoned down below. If he wanted to be my friend, he had every right to know. Did I want to be his friend?

I wasn’t in kindergarten anymore. I didn’t get to sit around picking and choosing these things. Friends were people who put up with me, and so far he had, and even after describing my total willingness to abandon everyone to certain death, he had yet to run.

“Sorry,” He said, when I was done.

Which was certainly nice of him.

 

Something felt quiet about lower Hell, but that might’ve just been because it was night. Though the lights down here never dimmed, most people still worked day shift, and there was an unsettled air about those still in the halls. Heading up, slowly blinking, glad to leave.

We were a minority in Greed. The office was locked, but I knew the keypad password- it was the same for every lockable door in Hell, and glaringly obvious for a place as heavily themed as this one- and we found Blake’s file right there on Kell’s desk.

I started feeling weird the moment we stepped into my old office and flicked the lights on. God. Quiet. Not sure how that made me feel.

These people, I knew them, and they stopped existing to me the moment I had left, my flimsy memory already working to forget everything I had gathered over the last five years. Kell would come last.

In his office, he had these cliche, thick-framed photos. I’d never taken the time to look at them before, since it was rare I’d even be in his office without him there in the first place. When we grabbed the file, I took an off moment to stare.

There were three. The first was of a woman and Kell- his first wife. He never spoke about her, but I had known he had had one. Instantly, I started to compare her to me- but wow, that was petty. She was good looking though, with a small and restrained smile. I could never really tell if I thought a girl was pretty or if I was just jealous that she looked better than me, and was obsessing over every detail.

Kell looked happy though. Even happier in the next one, with his daughter. Didn’t know he had had one. She was only around five, and Kell must have been thirty at the time- he was in his seventies now, though had come to Hell in his thirties. His physical age was thus stuck somewhere around a delicately aged fifty.

Lastly, there was a slightly more recent picture of him and Kelsey, a slightly blurry photo where both looked wasted, arms around each other, drinking in a warm looking bar.

Something about Kell being happy bothered me.

“What’s up?” Blake asked. He had begun to leaf through his file, but I could tell he was still nervous about being in this office past hours, and was waiting to leave before reading.

“I feel a little ill.”

Having potentially condemned Kell to a violent death was not going to make our relationship any more plausible. Not like we had much of one to begin with.

There was this bad, bad revelation I was suddenly barreling into, and something about it really did make me sick. Kell had a life. Fuck, everyone had one.

I guess I always knew I was a self centered egotistical asshole, but this was really putting things in perspective. Kell has a life, and I maybe was responsible for ending it. He had been happy at some point. He had been young.

My favorite doorman, with his dumb green horns and ill-fitting uniform, probably had a wife up in the city. Probably was proud of his job. Maybe had served his war time, and lost good friends to cruel angels.

Holy fucking _shit_.

I did not like this feeling.

“...Mannie?”

“I think I’m having some sort of crises. Here, one second.”

“You okay?”

I was quiet for a moment, and then I took a deep breath, as quietly as I could, so Blake wouldn’t know how nervous I was. Then I started thinking about something else. Something that spiraled a little bit less, something that didn’t prompt me to tear up my cuticles and nip at my cheeks.

Then, after that failed, I thought about a nice garden and a friendly golden dog until my heart rate calmed.

“Yeah. Let’s head back.”

And then back to Wrath. At the very least, I was going to retrieve Kell’s body.


	15. Holy dread

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blake learns why he sold his soul.

“You look like a boy on Christmas morning,” I remarked, seeing how Blake grasped his file to his chest, lighting tearing at one of the edges. “You can probably read and walk, you know.”

“I want this to be formal. Like a will reading! It’s my entire hazy life, after all.”

“Don’t get your hopes up. Most cubi and hounds shirk this sort of work.”

“It will have _something_ though.”

My mind was clear again, and seeing Blake this energetic was doing wonders to cheer me up. Good people were like that. Uplifting. Like kind and elderly dogs. “We can just dive by my dorm if you really can’t wait for the base. The elevator will probably be long enough too though. Seriously, expect only a paragraph or two.”

“Stop trying to push me down about this! I’m looking at this thing and imaging a full length novel. I don’t want to take your logical, informed backtalk as any sort of truth.”

“Let’s just get it over with,” I said, bemused, taking a turn towards my old dorm room. I hadn’t locked it, and it wasn’t like there were many squatters in Hell.

“You’re just not into having fun, are you?”

“I’m very fun!”

“When. When have you ever expressed joy, happiness, and gaiety in your life.”

“ _You’re_ the one who encouraged me to seek this rogue path. Before all this wandering, man, you should have seen me every Saturday night, curled up in my room watching the gossip roundups with a glass of hot chocolate.”

“Where’d you get the hot chocolate? You literally only have a mini-fridge in your room.”

“Kell gave it to me. I wasn’t working for a wage, so sometimes he’d buy me it, since I don’t go for coffee, and that’s all the office ever had.”

“It’s good to hear you weren’t totally a friendless freak. Which, sorry, I mean in a joking, friendly manner.”

“...He came over once and watched with me.”

“That’s nice.”

When we came to my still-exactly-the-same room, I sat on the bed semi nostalgic. It had been only a few days since I had left, but I’m the sort of person who hates change. I missed every little thing about this ugly little box, honestly.

“What are you waiting for?” I said, making room on the bed so Blake could sit down. I stretched out on my back and closed my eyes, listening as he flipped through the folder and took out the likely two pages that constituted his file.

“Oh,” He said. It was too soon to be a full reaction, so I waited.

I breathed in the old smells of my room, that scent somewhere between dirt, rot, and ocean breeze air freshener. I slowly became aware of a sound coming from Blake, and then suddenly there was a distinct sob.

All at once, he was crying. It was one of those terrible cries, with sobs and coughs and snivels and a steady stream of tears. I think he was talking to me, he was certainly making some sort of noise, but it was impossible to make out.

He brought himself together very slowly, but every time he was close to calming down he erupted in another rounds of sobs. Eventually I think he just gave up and went with it.

He slide me a piece of paper, already covered in tear stains. It was the report from his file.

He had sold his soul to change his memories, and start his life over. The succubus had found him crying in the streets with a bruise across his face, he cried of abuse and she convinced him to start over. Gave him three years, placed him across the country with some money and good memories of home.

He went to college there, but in his memories of home he had a girlfriend now. He was a little bit richer, a little bit more successful. Living half in a daze so he didn’t wonder why she didn’t call. He was happy now, and he had been happy before.

When the hellhound came to collect his soul, he had panicked, forgetful of his contract- slit his throat before the hound could get to him. That was how humans got to Hell- a contract never fulfilled. Maybe I should have told Blake that earlier, but I had figured he had known.

“That’s unfortunate,” I said. Blake had calmed down a bit, but not much.

“I have nothing.”

“I don’t know how to comfort you. I mean-”

“That’s a lie. Uh, not _you_ , but- I lied. It’s sort of a difficult story.”

“Sounds like it.”

“I, uh- I don’t have shit up on Earth. Nothing. Okay. But the succubus who did this report was wrong, and I feel like shit now that I’m starting to remember it. I _wasn’t_ abused, okay? I got punched in the face by some rude kids and was laying around crying about it.”

“That’s still pretty bad.”

“No, it’s pathetic. I’m nineteen- or was. Nineteen and getting bullied like a fake kid in a TV sitcom. Crying about it outside my house and feeling mad at my mother for not feeling like it’s the end of the world every time a bruise shows up. And then, what? I sell my immortal fucking soul because of it?”

“People have sold their soul for worse.”

“I would’ve survived if I hadn’t, okay? I would've been fine. I didn’t have much for friends and school was really dragging me down, I was talentless and I was depressed, but I would’ve been fine.”

“It’s not bad to... Well, whatever, right? You’re here now.”

“When I get back to Earth though... I really have nothing. No friends. No life. No way back home.”

“I’ll... stay with you,” I said. If only because he was nice, and I really needed to know more nice people, “I’ll make sure you get there.”

“I think you mean that.”

“I’m not the type not to.”

“I thought you were a compulsive lier?” He said, with a half smile, eyes still red from crying.

“That too. But I have you now. And that doesn’t stop for me.”

“Yeah."

“Maybe you should rest. You’ve had quite a day.”

“I want to know more about you.”

“There really isn’t much. I’ve told what I did... recently, without you. That’s really it.”

“What was your life here in Hell like?”

The strangest moment passed, where I thought about what I should say, and he sat there blankly, and then our eyes met and for some reason we both laughed. I rolled my head back in a slow circle and looked at the ceiling.

“Alright, fine,” I said.

And I told him almost everything. Not what mattered, but what didn’t- not who I was, but what I’d become.

And it was a lot of things.

Sometimes he’d ask questions, and sometimes I’d answer them and other times I wouldn’t.

But mostly I just relished in his company. Because he was a good kid, and I liked him a lot. It’s rare for me to like people, so Blake really was something extraordinary.

And when I was done talking with him, we just sat the night out. We chatted, laughed and just generally relaxed. I knew I had a lot of things I was accountable for, a lot of mistakes I had made and things I had done, but I was willing to forget it all.

For now, that is.

 

The hardwood floor left my back slightly sore, and Blake complained that my bed had done the same. At least he had had a blanket.

I was up at one am, and I was absolutely starving- I had eaten a sandwich back at the rebel base, but honestly I hadn’t had a proper meal in a long time. Foraging under my bed, I found some old meal tickets, and we had a proper breakfast in Greed.

Then we were on our way back to Pride, to grab Blake’s stuff- I wasn’t quite sure what stuff he might’ve had. He had a different shirt on from the basic white collared one Hell had provided for him, and at some point had acquired a red scarf. But did he really have belongings?

“I have to go back and deal with Percy,” I said, somewhere around halfway between Greed and Pride.

“It’s been like... eight hours now? Shouldn’t the whole retribution kill thing have blown over by now?” Blake yawned, mildly irritated that I had him up this early.

“Yeah, that’s sort of the point. I think we would have heard something by now if it was over. Percy must still has them in there.”

“Hey, not much you can do about it. Who knows what’s taking so long?”

“It’s sort of my fault though.”

“Something bad would have happened either way. According to Pepper there were rumors that they were going to kill someone at this meeting, and from that perspective everything’s running exactly as planned.”

“I ran out on everyone like a sniveling coward though, and I don’t want anyone to have that impression from me.”

“God, are you looking for pity or something?”

“No.”

“Yes, you are. Look, it’s not your fault. Don’t get so guilty about things you couldn’t help.”

“I should have known this would happen.”

“Mannie, seriously? Chill out, you’re doing fine.”

I mumbled something inaudibly, mostly for effect. “Are you coming with me?”

“What? To the hostage situation?” Blake looked at me, mouth slightly agape, clearly thinking the idea over.

“You could help me.”

“Help with what? Ensuring a terrible death?” He sighed. “Fi-”

“The angels have no qualm with you,” I said, too quick, “Oh! Were you about to say yes? Okay. Thanks.”

The rebel hideout was in the northwestern quadrant of the inner city, meaning a long walk in semi silence. Sometimes Blake would try and talk to me, but there wasn’t much to say. At the hideout itself, Blake slipped in while I waited outside.

The streets were nearly empty at this point in the morning, but there was someone sitting across from the hideout, partially obscured by shadows and a streetlight.

“Okay,” Blake said, fixing a small backpack, “Got some cash, food, my clothes...”

“We were only apart for two days.”

“Hey, you have a different shirt on too.”

“Let’s hurry. Every second probably counts.”

I had been leaning against the wall of the building, and as I stepped out into the street proper I turned again to watch the figure across the street. Then I heard a familiar voice.

“Oi!” Rhamiel got up and jogged towards us.

“Let’s ignore him,” I said, dragging Blake along in the other direction.

“Who is that guy?”

“Where are you two going?” Said Rhamiel, jumping between us and grabbing our shoulders with his hands. He looked to Blake. “Who are you? My name is Rhamiel, and I am very good.”

“Oh, you. I heard you were a bit of a dick.”

“Rhamiel, what are you doing here?” I asked.

“Salt told me where you went to, but they wouldn’t let me in. So I’ve just been waiting here for the last couple of hours.”

“Why were you trying to find me again? I thought you had your fun.”

“Well, I need something to keep me busy. And besides, you still have my rightfully earned blade in your possession.”

“Well, we’re heading back down to Wrath to deal with the nasty situation you created, so somehow I don’t think you should be tagging along.”

“Why must you kid me? Of course I should be coming, I have to make amends and all that.”

“No you don’t.”

“I’m a changed man, Man.”

“No you’re not.”

“Whatever, you can’t stop me anyways.”

“Should I be breaking you two up or what?” Asked Blake, “I’m really not into being the third wheel.”

“You won’t be for much longer. Rhamiel, please fuck off.”

“No.”

“We don’t really have a way of making him leave,” Blake said.  
“So I guess I’m sticking around.” Rhamiel grinned wildly.

“This is not going to turn out well.”  
“I like to think of it as an _experience_ ,” He said, clapping me on the back.

I begrudgingly allowed Rhamiel to tag along, promising myself I was going to find a way to ditch him or otherwise bar him from entry into the meeting room.

The night air was a perfect mix of a chill crisp fall and the regulated temperature of a horticultural freezer. I led the way to the proper elevator line in silence while Blake fell back to chat with Rhamiel.

“I don’t know, from what I heard you’re a mix between an asshole and a weirdo,” Blake said.

“Yeah, but who told you that? Mannie? Why would you trust Mannie’s words? You should be getting your opinions of me straight from the source, which is me.”

“I’m working on it. I wouldn’t hope for a greatly positive result though, what with the murder and sexual assault. Also you don’t blink much.”

“I have strong eyes.”

“Apparently.” Blake didn’t sound wholly hostile towards Rhamiel though, more bemused than anything else.

“What about you Blake? You are judging me here but here I am with no prior knowledge of you. What sort of opinion should I be making of you?”

“A cool one, since I’m sort of a cool dude. Mannie agrees. Right Mannie?”

“Yeah, whatever. You two should calm down a bit and walk faster.”

“See? So cool.”

“What about me Mannie? Am I also ‘cool’?” Asked Rhamiel desperately.

“No.”

“You truly are unjust and cruel.”

 

At the bright teal hall that held the only line down to the pit, there were again guards. Blake immediately stopped walking and pretended to read an informative flyer on one of the walls, while Rhamiel looked at me blankly.

“We might have to wait,” I said, quietly, hoping the guards hadn’t heard us yet.

Rhamiel cocked his head and walked past me. I didn’t stop him, figuring if he got caught or killed it just be one less problem for me to sort out.

There was a glimmer of light around his left hand, and I cringed as he drew a shining spear of light. He turned around the bend, and I didn’t hear any screams, so I edged forward.

“You take such a while to walk,” Rhamiel said stiffly. The two guards were terrified, backed against the wall by the tip of Rhamiel’s spear. He scoffed loudly.

“Might be best killing them.” I blinked.

“Your leaders already know I am loose.” Rhamiel hid his spear again, and joined us on the elevator, frowning. “I am merciful, and kind. Even if you don’t believe it.”

“Game plan then?” Blake asked.

“We go in, we talk to Percy nicely, he realizes his mistakes, everything is patched up, everything works out,” I said.

“That sounds very optimistic.”

“Alright, new plan. I go in, get yelled at a bit, make something up to distract Percy, he leaves, I help with removing the body slash bodies, everyone sort of begrudgingly admits I did a good job and we all get out of here.”

“I-” Started Rhamiel, but I cut him off instantly.

“Shush. You’re going to be waiting outside the whole time. Preferably constrained, considering what happened _last time_ I trusted you on your own.”

“There is no need to feel so rudely about me! Percial is an old friend of mine. I could help you.”

“Last resort.”

“Do I get to do anything special?” Blake asked.

“You get to stand behind me.”

“Moral support?”

“Call it what you will.”

There was a faint, off ding from the elevator as we arrived at the pit. I eyed it as we climbed the stairs to the hidden meeting room. I’d give a lot to be able to just jump in and forget all about Hell.

But this first.


	16. Conversion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mannie tries to calm down the hostage situation.

Sydney’s body was still on the table, but two more corpses had joined- her? It? The body. The taurus and the capricorn- Leigh and Charlie. At least the simple stab through the chest wasn’t contributing much fresh blood.

The table had been pushed aside to one wall, and the remaining members of The Few sat alongside it, bound up in ropes and cables, and blindfolded with cloth.

Percy wasn’t here, but he seemed to be gathering things- someone’s laptop was open on the end of the table, as well as a few miscellaneous cables and a phone.

I had motioned for Rhamiel to wait behind the door, and so far he was obeying. A took a few more steps in, accidentally trudging through a rusty puddle of blood as I did so. The sound caused a couple people to flinch.

“Who’s there?” Glenn asked desperately. Though some of them seemed a little bruised, none of them were hurt. Besides the dead ones.

“Uh, Mannie,” I said.

Someone groaned. Kell was closest to me, and had a nasty hit on his cheek. “Just cut us loose before he gets back,” he said.

“Shit, should've brought a knife.”

“I have a knife!” The mildly muffled voice of Rhamiel came through from the crack of the door.

“Toss the ring over here and don’t come in.”

“You know, you could easily burn one of us dead if you miss a cut with that thing- which you probably will,” Stacy said.

“If you’re going to make quips like that, I definitely will,” I muttered, struggling to make the ring-sword work.

“Are you... still with _Rhamiel?_ ” Kell asked. For the sake of convenience, I ignored him.

“No, you’re doing it wrong. Here, I saw Rhamiel do it more like this-” Blake said, attempting an elaborate trick with his fingers, “Or was it like this? Give me a moment, I’ll get it.”

“Only angels can use angelswords,” Noel said.

“I’ve gotten it to work before...” I kept the ring on. “Oh well, I guess I’ll have to use my hands. Blake, you too.”

“I only have one hand.”

I shrugged, and started with Kell. Removing the blindfold was simple, but I struggled with the ropes.

“This is going to be it. I am going to die here, after years of warfare, because you are unable to untie a knot.” Kell sounded especially bitterly.

“I’ll figure it out,” I told him.

“I already finished with one of them!” Blake said from somewhere behind me.

“You’re so bad at this that the guy with one arm is moving faster than you,” Kell complained further.

“Stop.”

“How about your friend comes over here and does me first, and you wait in another room while we finish freeing everyone else?” Kell pouted.

“Aren’t you a hellhound? Why don’t you just shift over and break out.”

“Can’t do it in these restraints.” Kell mumbled.

At that very moment, Percy swaggered in from one of the doors, prepping his twin blades the moment he saw us.

“What are you doing back here?”

“It’s been eight and a half hours,” I said.

“That’s a factual statement, not an explanation.”

“Eight and a half hours is quite a long time,” Blake added.

“You’re still only saying facts.”

“Still with the facts and not the answers,” Percy was pacing the room now, scoping what we had done, “Obviously you’ve taken their side- not like I can fault you for loyalty to your superiors- and are attempting to remove them from my captivity.”

“Pretty much,” I said, “Look, Percy-”

“Perci _al_.” He grit his teeth.

“Right. Sorry. From what I’ve heard, you’re supposed to be a good guy. So maybe reconsider this whole thing?”

“I’m doing my duty.”

“Would Michael really want this?”

Percy shook his head, his mouth gaping like I was a complete idiot. “ _Obviously_. Michael wants every demon dead. Filthy _inlufulgi_ like yourself deserve no other fate.”

“What’d you just call us?” Blake asked.

“Rhamiel was the only captive angel,” I said. Of course, I hadn’t known about him- there was a chance there were others I didn’t know about either. “Everyone was too scared to take any others.”

“I don’t know that, and I don’t believe it.” Percy pointed a sword towards laptop on the table. “Two deaths and no one’s given me much, so I must turn to live television to assist me. You are useless, so you may leave. Third time and I kill you.” He thought that last bit over. “Or, you know, whatever.”

“Okay, look. I feel a bit bad about getting this whole mess started-”

“You should.” Glenn grumbled.

“ _So_ I’d like to get this done without any more deaths, or torture, or... televised hostage situations.”

“I agree,” Blake added helpfully.

Percy grimaced. “I’d love to agree. Getting my hands dirty is not my game, but my duty. I told you, I- I get along with some demons. But part of me must always remember to whom I owe my Grace.” He half shrugged. “I have to provide justice for my own.”

“See, this is good. We can, uh, talk it out if you want.” I was going to motion to the table to sit down, but realized it would be hard to talk with a corpse between us.

“You don’t have the authority to be authorizing diplomatic acts,” Percy said, and I was about to make a point on how that didn’t matter when he suddenly spoke in a panicked voice, “Someone’s missing. There were eleven here, and one of them left. You freed one of them.”

“Yeah, not sure how that’s a surprise considering it’s what we came here to do,” Blake said, “I cut someone free, the one with the pink scarf.”

Just out of my vision, a hellhound reared itself and leapt at Percy. I realized it was the aquarius, Jamie- the hound’s large and lean body shared her nubby horns and pointed fox ears.

Percy was taken by surprise, and rolled with her as she went in for a killing bite- but his reflexes were too good, and he crossed his blades and shook her off. He turned aside and quickly got onto his feet.

Jamie made for an agile hellhound, a lot smaller than most I’d seen. Normally they were easily the size of an adult, but she must’ve been about three feet tall max, with a skinny form like a greyhound. Though Percy dived towards her, quickly slicing his blades with expert precision, she was easily able to dodge and avoid him. In all likeliness, he wasn’t used to fighting a hellhound her size, and all his known techniques didn’t apply to something smaller than him.

In such a confined space, Blake and I had fallen to the floor in the corner near the door. Percy kept lurching towards her, determined and quick with his blades, but she kept jumping back and skipping around, finally darting past him when they hit the corner. Then they’d start again.

She wasn’t trying to attack, obviously putting all of her energy into evasion. Her claws were visible and canine teeth were bared in anticipation of a mistake.

Blake nudged me and whispered, “Should we intervene?”

“We’re not running away.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Just a reminder.” Percy and the Aquarius completed another lap around the room. “She might be waiting for someone to help her. But we aren’t capable of that.”

The angel and the hellhound completely another lap around the room, neither changing their strategy. Maybe trying to exhaust the other.

“I wish I could actually see what was going on,” Noel sighed impatiently, like someone was actually going to get up and untie her in the middle of this battle.

Another room crossing complete, and Percy tried to change things up, slashing Jamie as she skirted past his legs. She whined, but didn’t slip up in her movement, ignoring the shallow pink gash on her side.

“Can I become involved yet, at this point?” Blake and I were sitting near the door, and Rhamiel was leaning right against it, peeking through the gap.

“Absolutely not.”

“I’m disregarding that. Give me the ring and I’ll break them up.”

“For the last time, you’re like a loose canon of distrust. This will... work out.”

“No, it won’t,” Rhamiel said plainly.

“He’s the only one who can use the sword ring anyway, right?” Blake said, “Just give it to him.”

“This is terrible,” I said, but I slipped the ring off my finger and slid it through the crack of the door, “You owe me.”

Rhamiel dramatically kicked open the door a moment later, angelic spear in hand. “Alright, this time of games is _over_.” Percy and Jamie didn’t stop to look at him, though their eyes did move slightly to take one short glance.

Rhamiel took a few steps forward, twirling his spear in his hands with what appeared to be nervousness.

“ _Him_.” Kell hissed at me. I thought it best to ignore him again and pray for the best.

Rhamiel jammed his spear haphazardly between Percy’s blades and Jamie. Percy’s attack became tangled in the jab, and he fell on his momentum, just barely avoiding falling onto the floor.

“What are you doing?” Percy shouted, and not a moment later Jamie leapt at Percy, her claws catching his clothes and ripping three bloody lines down his back.

It seemed to affect him less than it should have, and he spun around and began to contest with Aquarius again, albeit a little bit slower.

This time Rhamiel dove the end of his spear wildly in Jamie’s direction, and ended up tripping one of her feet. It was becoming increasingly clear that he was very out of practice with his weapon of choice, and evidently not planning to support either side.

She stumbled over the shaft for a moment, but like Percy, was quickly back at her parrying. In one of her laps, she nicked Rhamiel’s calve, just light enough as to not slow her down, but just enough to cause some pain.

Rhamiel stood relatively useless in the center of the room, the two fighters continuing their infinite rounding.

Percy finally slipped up, going in for a sharp cut towards Jamie and then doubling over with pain from the cuts on his shoulder. He winced, but before he could return fully to his senses Jamie took the opportunity to dives towards him, leaping straight for the neck.

Rhamiel acted, not too slow this time, and jammed his spear right through her. It wasn’t at all near her vitals, but it was certainly enough to immobilize her, and she fell back to her human form. Rhamiel dumped her body on the floor in front of Percy, like a cat leaving a gift for its owner.

Percy stood above for a few moments, panting heavily, while Jamie did the same. He chose not to finish her off though, and instead lunged for Rhamiel.

“I just helped you!” Rhamiel cried, jumping backwards and narrowly missing Percy’s attack.

Percy said something in angelic, too quick to even make out, and Rhamiel answered similarly. They continued to circle each other, weapons drawn, but then they both leaned against the wall and breathed it out.

“That takes care of that,” Percy said, finally.

Rhamiel said something in angelic, and Percy huffed his reply. I listened tensely. It _figured_ this was the turn things were going to take- but, in my defense, I had only been trying to help.

“Five down, seven to go,” Rhamiel said. I’d been expecting as much.


	17. Okay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhamiel joins Percial in torturing/holding The Few captive, Mannie tries to make them stop.

“Oh, I do hate it when you prove me right,” I said, standing up. Rhamiel ignored me, still chattering quietly with Percy in angelic.

Blake leaned over Jamie. “You know, I don’t think she’s dead yet.”

I frowned. Her body was still twitching a little bit, bleeding out. “Going to be soon.”

Percy noticed us. “Don’t touch her,” Now that he was free from threat, he looked a lot weaker, and took a few haggard steps towards us. “Let her die.”

“You know, I thought we were getting pretty close to a no-death type agreement before. Is that off?”

“Obviously.” Percy snarled, and I stepped back. “You freed _her_. Can’t have you getting into anymore trouble, so Rhamiel, tie them up.”

“Hey, I sent Rhamiel in to help you, remember?” I took a few more steps back.

“You sure enjoy using me as a bargaining chip.” Rhamiel started to tie a particularly panicked Blake’s arms and ankles. I noted with some victory he was a lousy knot tier, but I that only meant a slightly higher chance of escape. At this point, I wasn’t sure if I- well, not _me_ , but everyone else- was going to die here. If that was the case, well, I’d probably not want to leave to Earth so quickly, if only to see what sort of new government would arise.

The only way out was to hope the two angels turned on each other, or that maybe someone from the city would realize none of The Few had made it out of their last meeting.

As Rhamiel tied me up, I whispered, “You still owe me.”

He answered at full volume, so Percy could overhear. “I do still owe you, and I am paying my debt now, by consciously not killing you. You are fine, and it is my whim.”

“Don’t you have a conscious that should be... not doing this?”

“If I was going to double cross for you, I surely would not be telling you now, would I?” Rhamiel grinned sweetly. “You do not like me. I do not care for you. We are a means to an end, and in this case, that end may just be your death unless you become compliant.”

“ _Ariem,_ ” I hissed.

He blinked blankly at me for a second, clearly a little disturbed I knew a word of angelic. Then he finished tying up my legs and got up, redrawing his spear and standing boldly at Percy’s side. Still eyeing me.

There was more angelic muttering between the two of them as they worked on the computer. Percy was leaning on the side wall, clutching his wound and grimacing, and he instructed Rhamiel in setting up a link between the camera phone and the laptop. Then, using the wall phone, Rhamiel called up Hell’s television station.

“Hello,” He said, “I am the angel Rhamiel of the most holy host of angels, the once and promised future leader of the fifth squadron; previously led by the power that was Catiel, before he met his end by my own hands, may he rest in solace for the rest of days, and I’m here to call in a hostage situation. Yes, I’ll hold.”

He dragged Glenn out first, taking a moment to bash her nose in before having her sit down in a chair in front of the camera phone.

“Hello? Oh, hello. Yes, this is Rhamiel of the most... oh right. Okay. Okay.” He was still trying to send the feed from a laptop to the news station, and Percy frowned impatiently. Rhamiel leaned over, and announced to everyone in the room, “They’re connecting me to the live show right now.”

Glenn was visibly shaking. “Hello?” Rhamiel said again, “Yes. Oh, am I on? On live? Alright. So, I was hoping you could- I’ll answer questions in a moment- yes, yes, no, yes- look, I have a video feed that needs to be live. Can you do that? Huh, what?” He covered the receiver and leaned over to Percy again. “What’s a web address? They want me to harness it. Achieve a link of some kind.”

Percy sighed. “Just tell them we have it wired into the network already. I think.”

“Right.” To the phone, he said, “We have it into the network already. We think. Sorry? Oh, no. Uh, I mean, hold that thought. One second.” He paused again and went to Percy for help, “I do not know what they’re talking about in the slightest. What is a network. What is the internet.”

“Just give it to me,” said Percy, and he snatched it from Rhamiel’s hands. He held the phone with his neck and used the computer while he spoke, “Okay, look, it’s simple. I’ll make a live stream on the net, and I’ll just tell you the link. Uh-huh, yeah, one, lowercase v, five, lowercase n, another lowercase v, capital Z- are you getting this down? Oh that’s a good idea, yeah, it’s like thirty more characters. So I’ll email it to you? One second. Did you get it yet? Yeah? Yeah. Alright.” He hung up the phone. “It’s time to get started.”

“Fuck!” Rhamiel shouted with great joy. “How we doing this then? I am not used to torturing others. Slowly, I presume?”

“You’ll have to do most of it, so I hope you figure it out fairly quickly. Just beat her around a bit and make threats.”

“Cool. I am cool. Let’s do this.” He stepped out in front of the cameras and grabbed Glenn roughly by the hair. She had been gagged, and let out a muffled cry. “Hello demons, this is Rhamiel, the most esteemed archangel and definitive leader of the fifth squadron. We have killed a lot of your sorts. I’m here today to beat up this lady a lot until you listen to our demands. I am speaking like I am more than one person because I am more than one person. That is, I am working with more than one person. I mean, one other person. He can’t appear to you right now. Uh, let’s just get right into this then?”

Rhamiel began to gently kick Glenn. “Is this good?”

“You have to break the skin.”

“What, through her pants? I don’t want to remove her clothes.”

“You don’t have to. Just put a bit more effort into it.”

He started kicking a bit harder, but it obviously wasn’t enough to cause more damage.

Percy leaned over from his chair and looked at the camera phone, which had been prompted up with a few books. “Oh, they can’t even see that you’re doing. It’s too low.” Percy adjusted the camera.

“Should I kick her higher up?” Rhamiel asked, and he immediately tried to, aiming his leg for her face but instead slipping backwards onto the bloody floor.

Percy got up slowly. “Let me handle this. You can read our demands- wait, on second thought I think I’ll handle that too. You sit down and don’t touch anything.”

“Absolutely, sir.” Rhamiel gave a sort of salute, and took jumped onto the table.

Percy had bags under his eyes, and he had a sort of stuttering limp to him as he walked forward in front of the cameras.

“Demons. We have all of your leadership under hold, and we will be killing them off as necessary until our demands are reached,” He recited, “Our demands are simple and as follows: release any remaining angels still held here. Return any remains of dead angels you have looted. Return all blades. We will leave in peace when these are met.”

Rhamiel clapped enthusiastically, and Percy narrowed his eyes.

“Not fully in peace,” Percy continued, “as our kind will continue with the slaughter of your kind. Just peaceful in that we will avoid any innocent- if such a thing is possible with demons- deaths on our way out.” He held in his hand a regular switchblade and presented it aloft to the camera. “I will begin with this, and use it on this one. I hope she is very precious to you. Please begin calling in all information you know of before I ruin her face in retribution for what was done to my colleague.”

He paused. “Are there any calls?”

Rhamiel, sitting on the table a few inches from Sydney’s corpse, shrugged. “I don’t really understand what a call is.”

“Right. Wait, did I give out the phone number yet? The extension is six-four-five-five. You figure out the rest- I don’t know the rest, so you’re going to have to.”

Percy paused again.“I guess we really don’t have any calls.” He twirled the blade in his hand for a few seconds, and then dove it wildly into her shoulder. She let out a surprisingly subdued yelp. “Better than I thought. How about this then?”

He gripped Glenn’s head so that she faced the cameras, and began to trace a thin line down her left cheek. It beaded small drops of blood, and he withdrew the knife, biting his lip. Then he suddenly dug the blade right into the skin under her left eye. He wiggled it around a bit, each movement prompted a high pitched squeal from Glenn.

Percy twisted the knife from under her skin and dug it out, loosening a good chunk of skin and eliciting a serious, though muffled, scream. Percy’s mouth twitched, and he removed Glenn’s gag.

He went at her again, now using his other hand and working on the right side of her face. This time he used less pressure, taking off just a thin line of skin along her cheekbone. After finishing the mark, he went over it again and cut it slightly deeper. All the while, naturally, Glenn was crying and screeching.

Now he seemed to have found something that worked for him, and got to doodling bloody shapes across her skin, squiggly gashes meant to imitate the blocky ones Rhamiel had been given.

The phone began to ring. Rhamiel went to answer it, while Percy stared blankly at him, interrupted. “Hello. Okay.” He faced Percy. “So there’s a place called the angelic archives- I have been told the address- and they have many angel things. Knowledge and rings.”

“Okay. Back to work I guess.” He started carving Glenn up again, before taking a short pause. “Eh, we do have seven more of you fucks. No use being so articulate.”

He went at her again, now with much more gusto, ignoring her damaged face and taking off her jacket so he could start slicing up her left arm. He dug a piece of skin out under every one of her kill count tattoos, and when he ran out of those, continued in his pattern, until her left arm looked like- well, the shape was hard to discern under all that red.

Glenn had fallen unconscious at some point, though every few seconds she’d wake up briefly.

Percy got sort of artistic with it, clearly a bit bored from his regular cuttings. He carved spiral scars along her shoulder and aimed to perfect a square shape along her upper arm.

No one was really doing anything. There had yet to be any new calls, and everyone else was just waiting. I don’t know what we were expecting.

I guess a rescue. Had to come sooner of later- two angels wouldn’t last forever against a legion of hellhounds.

I kept feeling like it was my job to do something, to reveal one of my mediocre secrets and somehow convince Percy to stop. I probably could do it, that’s what bothered me- the secret thing was bogus, but I was a good liar. And I knew a thing or two that he might be interested in knowing.

I could have done something, but I was feeling a more and more like some kind of shitty plant. Like a monocarp, living for a bunch of years and only blooming once.

And I wasn’t going to peak be today. Hell, I probably already had and missed it. Maybe I peaked when I was three years old, and had been too much of a stupid baby to realize it.

Glenn might’ve been dead, but Percy hadn’t stopped to take a pulse. Blake, Kell, and I were the only ones without a blindfold on, and we watched in a collective disgust. Anything else would have been weird. The others all seemed to share a grimace, but their impressions of the events were only aided by Glenn’s now ceased screams, and the steady of blood drops.

Before I could really make a final decision- actually do something or just call it a day and sleep- the sharp footsteps of someone running down the outside hall came to everyone’s attention. Percy stopped what he was doing and watched the door.

Christina stormed in and immediately slapped Percy in the face. “The _fuck_ do you think you’re doing?”

“Ouch, way to make an entrance,” Percy said, like perhaps she was accusing him of something less than a war crime.

“Shut up. You know, it’s pretty weird for me to go on lunch, glance up at the TV, and- what do you know?- my boyfriend is carving someone up with a pocket knife for the world to see! I thought the conventions of ‘arrange a date for a meeting’ would be simple enough for you, but I guess I’m still learning new things about you.”

“They were holding one of my own captive and experimenting on him.”

Rhamiel, hearing himself mentioned, waved.

“That doesn’t give you the right to flip out and mutilate someone on live TV. I can’t emphasize that enough, by the way. Like what the hell? That’s disgusting. Believe or not, there are some children in this city and I’m sure they’ve been utterly traumatized thanks to you.”

Rubbing his face idly, Percy replied bitterly, “I do not bow before your authority.”

“Who cares? Start untying all these guys. And uh.” She gazed around the room and finally noticed me. “Hey Mannie.”

“Hey.”

“Yeah.” Christina immediately got down and untied Kell. “You okay?”

“I think going to have back pain for the rest of my life,” He said, “Does someone know first aid? Glenn is...” He walked over to examine her.

“I know CPR.” Blake offered, stretching out after Percy had untied him. “Not sure that helps.”

“You must be Blake,” Kell said, returning from Glenn to keep an eye on Percy.

“I don’t know which one you are,” Blake said, shaking his hand, “Sorry. This day has gotten a bit overwhelming.”

“That’s Kell,” I said, after I had finally been untied, “Here, we should go now that this has cleared up.”

“No, Mannie, wait here,” Kell said, surveying the room. Christina had brought with her one water bottle to share, and everyone was stretching out their back and taking a sip. In the corner, Christina was arguing with Percy. “I still would like to speak with you.”

“You should be charged with something,” Lane said, having overheard, “Bringing that angel here _twice_. Causing all this in the first place.”

“I came here to help,” I said.

“And you didn’t have to do that,” Kell said, “It was nice of you to try, though Lane does have a point.”

“It’s a moot point,” I said, staring Kell in the eye and hoping he understood the context. I hated suicide, but I’d fall back to it if they tried to toss me anywhere unsavory.

“Maybe. Would you mind waiting here?” Kell said, “Lane, come with me for a moment.”

A few of The Few had already left, while the rest were gathered around Jamie and Glenn. Jamie appeared to be dead, but Glenn was alive for the time being. Christina had left with Percy at some point, and Rhamiel sitting very still under the watch of Kelsey.

Blake shifted awkwardly. “So...”

“Let’s get going. We’re right next to the pit, and we can lose any followers in the forest.”

“I want to head back to Pride.”

“I’d rather not.” I was quiet. “But we can lose them in the city, too.”

* * *

 

Rhamiel's a good boy.


	18. Burial at Sea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mannie can't resist getting involved in something she shouldn't.

We slipped out the door without anyone noticing, and Blake took extra care to ensure the door closed silently.

It was entirely peaceful for the first thirty seconds, walking down the hall towards the pit. Muffled conversations were still audible from the meeting room, and we took slow, calculated steps. Then there was a crash.

“Must be the doors,” Blake said, standing next to me as we waited to see what was going to happen. It might have made more sense to run, but we were both curious about this commotion.

“I think I hear shouting.” The hall had a strong curve, preventing us from seeing the door. There was another loud bang, and then the yelling got a little more defined. One voice in particular stood out. “Let’s hurry. I hear Rhamiel.”

“Oh dear.” Blake joined me in a reserved power walk, still a little antsy about flat out running.

Then, barreling far faster than I would have imagined, Rhamiel flung himself around the corner- very literally at that, drifting in the dust before gathering himself up to full speed again. He ran right by, and we flattened against the wall in anticipation of whatever would come next.

“Hi guys!” He shouted with glee, “I’m running to freedom!”

“...Okay,” Blake said, starting to power walk again. I grabbed his sleeve.

“Someone’s coming.” We pressed back against the wall.

Like a collection of horses, and with a small gust of wind, a hellhound ran past. I immediately recognized it as Kell- he carried the same two sets of horns and teal scales.

Some of his age was showing in the off streaks of grey that showed amongst his short, shadowy fur, but he was obviously still build to kill. Rows of pointy teeth shone a strange teal-white with every bound- his namesake in angelic. _Aerdens-_ air tooth _._ Dumb as shit nickname, but at least it had a legitimate source.

There was a sort of smog about him in the few seconds it took to pass- being a hellhound was not quite the same as turning into a giant hell beast, after all. It was a mess of magic, not entirely real or solid, but having just as much capacity to kill.

His scruffy fur was broken by the occasional old scar or stray metallic scale. Folded on his back, not fully visible, were two long and leathery wings.

“Where did _that_ come from?” Blake asked.

“That was Kell.”

“I didn’t realize you also had werewolves down here.”

“He’s clearly a hellhound. Shut up.”

“Are you sensitive about this?”

“Werewolves are lame.”

“I like them.” We started walking again. “Where do his clothes go anyway? I hate it when that isn’t explained when it comes to werewolves, like come on- either they’re running around naked or we’re dealing with a universe afraid to have a little bit of fun.”

“Welcome to the latter,” I said, “Considering what you just saw, I’m surprised you’re not shaking and asking me to hold you.”

“Aw, I can’t help but feel a little giddy when I ponder the realities of whatever the hell happens to Kell’s clothes when he’s scampering about on all fours.”

“If you came face to face with him right now, you wouldn’t be talking like this.”

“No, I’d probably be fearing for my poor, damned soul. I’m just pointing out it’s a bit silly.”

A few people were waiting by the pit, silhouetted by the ceiling lights. “Did that guy go through the rift?” I shouted up to them.

“No, Kell chased him right up,” someone answered, “Tried to get in the elevator and Kell blocked him again. Last I saw, he was running towards the other elevator.”

That was good- he would be trapped in Hell. Wait, was I rooting against Rhamiel now? I guess so, he had betrayed me and what not. Something in me didn’t want to feel offended by that though, and was mildly rooting for the poor bastard.

I kept expecting to find Kell dragging Rhamiel’s corpse back down to the meeting room as we walked through Wrath, but evidently he had made it to the elevator bay. Kell might not have had the stamina to give chase the whole time through, or else his hound form could have been too large and fast to safety navigate these twisting halls.

We went up to Pride, and the answer to a couple of my questions was presented the moment the doors slid open.

Rhamiel and Kell were in the center of the little atrium that separated the city from the tunnels. A crowd had amassed, and several police were attempting to clear them away, while others looked ready to join in.

It was Percy and Jamie all over again, except it should have been easier- Kell was a military hound with four decades of experience, while Rhamiel was a malnourished test subject who was rusty with his weapon of choice. But he seemed to be holding up well, dodging Kell’s claws and laughing all the while.

I looked to Blake. “I sort of feel like I should do something? This is my fault after all.”

“For the last time Mannie, it really isn’t.”

“Okay, so even if it isn’t my fault I still feel obliged to do something. Like citizen’s duty or whatever.”

“What are you so worried about?”

“...Both of them. Mostly Kell.”

“He’s a giant mutant dog thing. He’ll be _fine_.”

At that moment, Rhamiel took a lucky jab with his spear and pierced Kell through the mouth, right through his muzzle, the top sticking out a small bit under his eye. Kell snapped his jaw shut and broke the spear in half, and it reformed in Rhamiel’s hands a few seconds later. The wound, bleeding a little, had left a sharp grey marking on his skin.

A few of the police officers had decided to try their hands at helping out, shooting at Rhamiel. Surely one or two bullets had hit him, but he seemed unfazed by it, as angels often were.

Meanwhile, Kell was at least nine feet tall and the bulkier target, and he gave a low growl whenever a stray bullet hit his hide. Hellhounds were hardy, easy to heal, but every hit still count.

Kell slammed Rhamiel with one of his paws, and the angel went flying backwards, crashing onto the tiled ground dramatically. He started to get back up immediately, but several police officers surrounded him, meaning to restrain him.

He killed them all in a series of quick movements, not bothering to pull his spear from body and move to the next. He simply reformed it in his hands the moment it pierced skin, and went for another hit.

He was clearly back on his game. He rolled under Kell, aiming for a move I’d normally heard of angels preforming with a sword- evisceration. His weapon of choice was not much for slicing, and he quickly gave up on one long cut and went for a single stab towards the heart.

The tip broke through the stubborn flesh, and Kell howled with pain, rolling over and tossing Rhamiel away.

He stumbled on the ground for a second. Rhamiel wasn’t actually bullet-proof, it turned out. One shot to his chest very much landed, instantly causing him to fall over and cry out with pain. As Kell moved in to finish him, he barely managed to dodge, falling over and clutching his well-bloodied shirt. Most of it was from earlier, though, as he was bleeding very little despite his pain.

The media had arrived past the police and the civilians. This was going to make a good story later- the great Kelly Campbell, angelkiller again, teal toothed menace. Putting an end to the mysterious angel who had somehow made his way into the heart of Hell like this.

Rhamiel was moving like a broken machine; still capable of what he needed to do, but having to make a few sacrifices in terms of comfort. His eyes were weary with well wrought determination; he knew he wasn’t going to win, but he refused an attempt to flee. As Michael had always taught.

Unexpectedly, however, it was not a killing blow that Kell aimed for when Rhamiel tripped over himself and fell weakly to the ground. Rather, with a lash of his tail, he cleared the police away and fell back to his human form. Rhamiel seemed to have fallen unconscious.

Kell looked more than exhausted in his human state, and he held his head in his hands, panting heavily. The wounds on his body had not transferred entirely to his human form, but the damage was certainly still felt. From on top of his head, a single stream of blood trickled down his face, while the muzzle wound seemed to have become a blotchy grey burn half his mouth.

“There’s his clothes...,” Blake said. His outfit was bloody and ruined from his stomach injury, but he seemed to have at least thought ahead and removed his tie and jacket.

A couple cops had run out to check with him, and they talked briefly with him before helping him up. I took a few dumb steps forward, eyeing Rhamiel in his defeated state.

“Mannie,” Blake said.

“I’ll just- see you later. Hang by with Pepper, okay?”

“Mannie, no. Why would you even help him? That’s what you’re planning, right? They’ll kill you.”

“They can’t.”

“What?”

“Just- This might not even work.” I shrugged comically, knowing it full well would. I was too tenacious to fail.

Rhamiel was the worst, but he deserved death, not this. Freedom was fine too, but not _that_ again- torture, isolation, suffering. Life or death, black or white- no goddamn grey areas.

A stretcher being wheeled to the scene, and considering Kell was standing fine on his own, there really was only one thing that was about to go down right now.

Rhamiel was being lifted onto the stretcher, and I shoved my way through the crowd, kicking people aside and ducking under stray limbs. I hit the paramedics who were pushing the stretcher in the backs of their knees and grabbed on. The crowd was taken aback at first, but for a lot less time than I had hoped.

Kell in particular stood out, not moving but just standing there amid the chaos, watching.

I wrestled with the stretcher for a bit, helped only by the ruthlessness I used. I shook, kicked, and bit my way through the deafening crowd, using the stretcher as a weapon and knocking anyone in my path aside.

I had intended to head to Pride, hopefully able to lose my pursuers at some point and take shelter until Rhamiel could walk, but it was impossible with the crowd. Instead I was forced to barrel straight through the atrium into lower Hell. The moment the stretcher hit the incline, we were off. I ran behind at first to help catch speed, and then jumped on.

I only then realized how sweaty I was. I’d never really done something this outrageous before, or this close to a war crime. Was this a war crime? Oh God, I think it was.

The wheels of the stretcher weren’t meant for the uneven tiles of Pride and Lust, and it bounced as it moved, like a sled on a too steep hill. I was terrified it was about to flip at any moment, but it remained upright. Confused people moved aside as the stretcher careened its way through the halls, only helped occasionally by me jumping down and helping it turn curves.

My end destination was still eluding me, but at least I knew I was getting there fast.

Rhamiel was stirring, eyes fluttering slightly as he began to wake. “What is happening? This is not the afterlife I had been hoping for.”

“We’re escaping,” I said, “I grabbed you and ran.”

“How will we escape if we’re just heading deeper underground?”

“Elevators?” I said, asking him like he was able to answer.

We skirted our way just past the entrance to the offices at Lust when a wheel went wrong and the whole stretcher went flying. We both fell painfully to the ground, and the stretcher landed upside down.

Rhamiel moaned, obviously not at all well enough to do any walking. I helped him up, letting him lean on my shoulder. I couldn’t carry his weight myself, but we managed a bit of a stumbling pace. We had a good head start.

Above our heads, a loudspeaker turned on, “Attention. All those in the lower levels, floors one to two specifically, be on alert for suspicious persons. A noted criminal is escorting an escaped and wounded angel. Destination unknown. Do not attempt combat; angel is likely still armed and can kill you. Send for the authorities and engage in lockdown mode. Repeat. All those in the lower levels...” It continued a few more times.

The few people in the hall immediately stared us down, as if the gurney wasn’t a bit enough giveaway. Everyone dove for their phones or made a run for the offices, and at the end of the hall a metal gate was beginning to rise.

Rhamiel coughed up blood on my shoulder, and I walked over to one of the maintenance shafts. There wasn’t anywhere else to go. Might as well give the waiting game a shot, right?

I couldn’t support Rhamiel in the narrow shaft, and ended up mostly dragging his weight like he was a wet t-shirt. We kept going for a while in the quiet and hot vents, the only sound being Rhamiel’s heavy breaths. He was too tall to walk here, and too weak to crouch. Most of the time, he had to crawl.

The further we went, the less I knew what I was doing. And considering I had started out with zero understanding of my own plan, this was a bad thing. I was in a tiny metal hallway next to a bigger hallway underground in a city called Hell, dragging along a half dead angel and sweating like a dog.

We had flicked on the dull lights when we had entered the shaft, but there were starting to phase out, some dead and others simply nonexistent. When we came a strange sort of half room, shorter than the rest of the hall but a lot wider, Rhamiel stopped.

“I am done. I am too tired to keep moving like this. And the end result is the same either way.”

I grabbed ahold of him and looked into his tired dark eyes. “We’re continuing. I know where we’re going.” I didn’t, and I could tell he knew that.

I urged Rhamiel to follow as I made my way deeper into the darkness, but he stopped again before we had left the little clearing. The walls in this small clearing had been long gnawed away by something, exposing a rock wall. Rhamiel lay splayed out on the floor, and I sat near him, wondering what to do.

“You’ve got to end this.” He wheezed. “I’m going to live.”

“What?”

“I am not in that bad of a condition. I am going to live. And I do not want to.”

“You want to die?”

“That is indeed what I had just stated. It is not quite ‘want’ as it is ‘need’. I do not desire death. I have told you there are still things I have to take care of, places to revisit and people to re-meet. But it seems this is it for me. I must die. I do not have the strength to end it, so you must instead.”

“I can’t.”

“Please, this is not about you, it is about me. If the people who are seeking us arrive, they have orders to keep me alive. I’m too precious to die. I want nothing to do with them, so end it all, please.”

“Why?”

“I thought it was obvious?” Rhamiel coughed. “Do not be as weak as you are. _I_ will be the one holding the blade- you must guide it through my heart.”

“I can’t,” I said, shaking my head back and forth despite his inability to see that.

“Mannie! We only have so much time!” He barked, and I started to feel very vulnerable and scared. I could not kill. There was no way I was going to kill, I had promised myself I-

“Coward!” Rhamiel said harshly, pain seeping deep into his voice. “Weakling! Pathetic! Meaningless! Useless!”

“Fine!” I shouted, grabbing ahold of his sword hand and moving in front of his body so I had a clear aim of his chest. I twisted his hand and brought the tip of the blade right to his chest.

We went silently, breathing in sync. I looked into his eyes, the color lost in this dim dark light.

I watched his awful eyes and his awful face for ages. I hated him, I decided, and I was glad I had made up my mind about that before this crucial moment.

I sat, ready and waiting, like something new would happen that would prevent this awful thing from happening to this awful man. But nothing did.

I brought the blade down after I had searched for some sort of answer and some sort of reason to finally kill him and, finding nothing, went ahead with it anyways.

His blade disintegrated as he died, and I pulled the ring off his fingers. After a few weak twitches and shivers from his dying body, I began to see him less as a him. More of a body.

Then the wings came out. His were pale orange, an ugly shade, surely the type no angel could be happy with having. But also, you know, the color of the sunrise in the winter, or something warm, like the fringes of a fire.

His feathers were soft, and I tried not to touch them.

We hadn’t been followed. I sat there for a long while in the dark, running my fingers over his feathers. He would’ve died anyway, probably, and we hadn’t been followed.

I breathed for a while, not anticipating the future, and slung his dead arms over my shoulders, hunched over with his weight.

Something about him felt hollow. Like an emptied backpack. His orange wings, which seemed to radiate light, were dragged on the ground behind me. The color of his Grace remained pure, even when coated in dust, dirt, and dead matter.

Dead like him. The debris was like speckles on his pale orange wings, and I kept walking forward.


	19. Aimless Morning Gold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Still reeling, Mannie tells Kell the truth, or at least tries to.

I was reeling, and I never felt like I’d stop rolling, off kilter and _off_ , Rhamiel’s wings dragging on the ground behind me. When I crawled back into the sunlight, my vision was dusted with stars, and my dreadful inner monologue was again distracted by the sounds of other people.

There was a good crowd of people, as well as the police and a television crew. Kell was standing by the door, the first person to meet me, and he was looking. Just looking. Staring at me, and looking god awfully old.

He looked disappointed in me, and for a moment, all my gut could react to was this notion- the hell did he think he was, that right bastard, that old fucker who had no right to judge me as softly as he did-

Then I took another breath, and dug myself a hole of self acceptance: Kell was a good guy, and he had every right to frown at me. I hoped that somewhere in Pride, safe, Blake was doing the same.

Rhamiel’s body was taken from me, and I was too tired to protest. Not off, but right minded, finally for once having the sense to acknowledge some forces were beyond me. I was an annoying brat who got people killed. Better keep that corpse away from me before I ruined it even more.

Still, watching as the body was carried through the crowd, and the way people splayed their greedy fingers through his feathers, I couldn’t but feel angry. Again. Was I always angry, or just an impulsive beast desperate for self validation?

The only real skill I needed, truthfully, was the ability to stop thinking so much.

In Heaven, they would’ve burned his body. There would have been a beautiful song to go with it, and the funeral dances would have sent his soul right up into their afterlife. Which, last I checked, was just a short journey up to Michael.

Angelic myths were weird, but something in my heart wanted to respect them today.

I was led up to Pride with the rest of the crowd, feeling corralled but not sure. No one had handcuffed me to anything, but I was still in the center of the group, uneasily watched by at least one cop.

Kell was here, too.

At the atrium of Pride, the groups diverged according to the police chief, Lane, who then joined Kell. I stood still and watched them, until I was gestured to come forward.

“Are you okay?” Lane asked. She had been the one to motion me towards the two of them, but she ignored me, gently examining Kell’s wound the moment I was in earshot.

“Yes, no- I’m fine.” Kell moved her hand away. “Mannie. I wanted to talk to you.”

“In jail,” Lane added quickly.

“Where I will be speaking to you.”

“Am I going to be charged with anything?” I asked.

“Depends on what you tell me.”

Lane was making no effort to hide her displeasure towards me, as well as Kell’s apparent amnesty. I tried my best to look sincere, “I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt anyone. Which I didn’t do, honestly, but you know, assisted deaths are still...”

“Mannie. We’ll talk.”

“I know Glenn was a friend of yours, but at least she’s alive, right?” Both of them were walking at a pace slightly faster than my own, and I quickly ran up to Lane to try and meet her eyes. “Oh. Is she dead?”

“Mannie,” Kell reminded, and I kept my mouth shut.

We went to the largest police station in Hell, where Lane peeled away from us with a crooked smile, and Kell took me to what seemed to just be someone’s office. He saw behind the desk, and I sat on the other side in what felt like an almost nostalgic set up.

“So we’re a bit later than I hoped for,” Kell said simply.

“What do you want?”

“Remember the time I dragged your body out of the vents? Probably not, considering you were absolutely dead.”

“...Yeah. Death hasn’t been a thing for me for a while.”

“Why? Please realize this isn’t a discussion I feel deserves to be peppered with witty commentary and a fun sense of pal ship. I would prefer to have answers.”

“It’s complicated.”

“Try me.”

“...I’ve done nothing wrong, you know. Freeing Rhamiel was objectively right. If Sydney hadn’t cap-” I started sputtering out my words rapidly, overcome by a strong desire to avoid the subject for as long as possible.

It was hard to meet Kell’s gaze, so I focused on his eyelashes. They were nice, I guess- I wasn’t sure exactly what made for good eyelashes.

“Mannie...,” Kell sighed my name, and that really was the worst sound for me. He had this tone to his voice, like it was echoing down a wooden hallway, and sometimes when he spoke I just wanted to curl up and wait for a while. “I was expecting you to say that. You’ve always been a problem, even when you weren’t getting into... highly illegal activities.”

That desperate need to distract from the subject hit me again. I rubbed Rhamiel’s ring- or I guess Sydney’s? Either ways, the owner was dead. “You were skinning him.”

“Rhamiel?”

“Angel blades need angels to wield them. They need Grace- so you skinned him. You tied it around the rings and made them your own.” I felt the soft, leathery lining of the ring I was wearing, but only as I was realizing this did I suddenly want to retch. I undid the strings that were keeping it attached, and peeled a single, dull piece of skin off from the sweat of my finger. I placed it on the table.

“That’s war.”

“ _That’s_ inhumane. _That’s_ abuse of prisoners. _That’s_ a warcrime.”

“We’re not humans, and neither are they. We do what we must. I was never fond of the initiative, but I am a hound- I have always been good at living. To those who aren’t, having access to such an effective weapon was probably a good boon. Great enough to even tolerate torture.”

“It was cruel.”

“And yet you, an apparent deity with a thousand lives, did not know about it until a few seconds ago.”

“I have infinite lives.”

“Do you?”

“Well, I hope not. But so far.”

“Would you mind explaining to me _why?_ ”

“No.”

“You’re such a child.”

“I’m older than you.”

“Not fully surprising, but absolutely alarming considering your maturity level. Perhaps sensibility, quite like the world above, cycles back to the past after a certain point?”

“I’m not an idiot. I’m...” It took me a moment to make sure I had done the math right, “Two hundred and six years old.”

“That’d make you twenty when the cycles began,” Kell said, instantly. It made sense that an accountant would be good at basic arithmetic. “I must admit, you look more like a tween if anything else.”

“What would I gain by lying?”

“The right to drink alcohol,” Kell said, “Just who are you, Mannie?”

“...Do you ever think you can remember things from your past lives?” Kell was fully expecting me to change the subject like this, and gave a heavy sigh. “Like from past cycles?”

“No,” He said dryly, “I know it’s an impossibility. Unless you’re here to enlighten me on otherwise, perhaps in regards to your inexplicable immortality?”

I shook my head. “I’ve been alive since before the cycles, and lived through them in the same state. I’ve just always been curious as to what it’s like... learning about them. Knowing you have these past selves.”

“In a word? Underwhelming. In two? Anti-climatic. I could go on.”

“A lot of people claim they can remember bits and pieces of their past lives. Do you ever get that?”

“No, and I _know_ anyone who says otherwise is lying for attention.”

“You _know?_ ” I said, with further emphasis.

“For once I wish you’d change the subject.”

“I’m a nosy little fucker, right?” I tried to give a relaxed smile, but nothing about me was ever very relaxed. I might have looked malicious instead. “I’ll tell you one of my grand secrets in exchange for yours.”

“I’m not a grade school girl. I don’t keep secrets.” Kell smirked though, and settled back in his chair. “Look, back on Earth I had a wife, okay? Wife and daughter. I was a traveling business man, she was an air hostess, it was strangely classic. Then there was... my soul deal. The cycle change came not much longer. I went through the army, got over myself, and met Kelsey. Then I met her.”

“Your wife, right?” Considering I’d never seen her, I could guess where this story was going.

“Who else.” Kell was still stretched out, leaning back a bit in his chair, but he looked tense. “So she had no idea who I was. I had been warned of this, sure, but it was rather disheartening- I’d burned half my photos of her over a fire one night, pleased I’d gotten over her, and there she was. I knew everything about her. It was incredibly hard not to tell her this, to just speak with her like I _didn’t know everything about her_.”

“But obviously she didn’t remember you.”

“Our daughter was cycled out of existence too. I... dated her for a year. Every second was awful, this wash of anxiety and relief. Another chance to meet her again, to not repeat the mistakes of our first relationship- but it didn’t work. It doesn’t work. She knew nothing of me, and I left her in that same state.”

“You have a photo of her on your desk.”

“She’s dead now.”

“Oh.”

“Why are you immortal.”

“One of my old friends fucked up selling his soul. Got me all tangled up in it somehow, don’t even know _how_ , and now... this. Deathless.” I swallowed. “I was like forty when it happened, too. On Earth. With someone. One moment it was autumn, next it was May.”

“Sorry.”

“Do you pity me?”

“I mean, that sounds pretty horrible. Sure. I wouldn’t want to jump back to my twenties either, let alone live without some sort of finality.”

“I mean, in general. You’re always so nice to me, always talking down and acting polite and-”

“Maybe I just like you. Or maybe you’re someone tends to get overemotional when too many things don’t go your way. Take your pick.”

“I want to pretend you’re fond of me.”

“You’re not fully wrong,” Kell said, “But I wouldn’t get too comfortable.”

 

When I asked Kell what was going to happen to me, he just sighed and told me he doubted I had anything else to say. He left, and ten minutes later I was free to go.

The skin of my face itched like hell. The roads smelled like I’d missed a heavy rain somewhere between Kell and now, and I tried my best to recalibrate.

I’d left Blake, but I had to come back for him. Kell was done with me, and the peace deal was shot- looks like it was time to actually head to Earth.

Finally.

It was hard to separate what I wanted from what I’d always planned, and what I had done. That whole thing with Rhamiel had been so stupid... but he’s dead now. He’s a corpse in a morgue in a city underground. Over with.

Thinking was difficult as I hurried towards the rebel’s base. Every person seemed to know who I was, and some took pictures. Others just tried to engage in conversation, stopping me with their arms and barking their thoughts out.

Some part of me welcomed the fawning attention- the reverence I’d seemed to have gained from far-off rumors. The brave loner who stood up to the feared Mr. Campbell. Two hundred years old and finally getting the respect of a proper god.

Yeah. I ducked my head down and scrambled through the throng.

Good thing most people just walked by. A few spat, more aware of my crimes.

Passing through on a side street, I could see down the straight center road that I was on television, broadcasted on the great trio of screens in the central square. Holding Rhamiel in my arms like a martyr.

The crowds were getting hard to keep track of, and when I arrived at the rebel base, I wasn’t initially surprised to see it also swarmed by people. It took a moment to settle that this was likely a bad thing. I didn’t break through the crowd, just peeked through and caught a bit of a reporter’s speech, “...chaos of this morning, police swarmed this decrepit block after rumors of a rebellion became known. Only two have been collected at this time, and currently officers are searching the premises...”

I backed away. Blake _probably_ wasn’t there. Maybe I could try The Blues? Pepper certainly liked to hang there.

Another winding path to head down. How long had it been since I had something to eat?

Five am, and everyone was on the streets. I spotted the familiar face of Christina halfway to The Blues, hoodie drawn over her head as to obscure her appearance. I fell in step with her.

“I’m surprised people are leaving you alone.”

“They won’t if you follow me,” she said sharply.

“Hey. Sorry.”

“Hey,” she said, in the simplest of ways. Like everything was normal.

“Where are you going- and have you seen Blake?”

“I’m heading to hospital to check on Kell. You’re welcome to come? I guess?” She scratched her neck. “Blake’s your one-armed friend, right? I don’t know for certain, but I think he was taken by Kelsey at some point. You know, known associate of... _you_. Shouldn’t you be in jail by now?”

“Kell cleared me.”

“He put off going to the hospital for that? God, what an idiot,” she said. “I suppose you don’t need to come with then. That’s probably for the best, there’s no plans of my involvement becoming... known at this time, and I really don’t want it to be. Might go down for treason though.”

“Nah, Kell would clear you too.”

“You think?” She sounded pleased. “He is a bit of a softie.”

“Adorably soft.”

“That’s a very weird thing to say.”

“Sorry I single handed screwed up your peace deal, by the way. It wasn’t really aimed towards you.”

“It’s okay. I think I get it. We’re... a lot alike, maybe? Not to sound super pseudo-deep or anything, but I think if I was more like you, I’d do what you did. But I’m already like you, you know? If I... was in the same situation... am I making sense?”

“Kind of.” More like no, but I could nearly feel her good intentions. It made sense people tended to like her, and that she could get all buddy-buddy with Kell and others- something about her screamed trust. Warmth. Nativity, maybe, but in the same sense that a sitcom character might wield it.

I honestly hoped we were as alike as she thought we were. There still might be hope for me then.

“I’ll make it up to you,” I blurted out, after letting the thought sit for too long. I was off course for The Blues now, just following Christina to the hospital. “I’ll fix things.”

“Your track record isn’t very good on that front.” She smiled sadly.

“There’s a couple tricks left to me yet.”

“You’re welcome to try, I guess. Can’t quite stop you either ways.”

“I promise this will work. I’ll make it up to you, and Kell, and... the others,” I said.

Blake would wait- he was good, I knew he would.

It was time to pay Heaven a visit.

* * *

 

I've never drawn a good kell.


	20. Heavensent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mannie heads to Heaven.

One ride up, and no batted an eye. One ride up and I was on the empty Earth of the present, breathing in the October air. This was the first time in all these years that the month in Heaven and Hell was the same as that on the cycling Earth- because the latter jumped from October to May when the change came, there was usually a gap in seasons.

It was nice to have this level of consistency between realms, even if in two days it’d be another hundred and seventy years before we got back to this point. And god, I’d be alive for all of them.

So would Michael. The despot of the angels. I had a feeling he wouldn’t take kindly to me.

Good thing I knew exactly where Heaven was, or I’d have died of mourning. You don’t really get how hard it honestly is to wander a wasteland. Especially one you grew up in- the empty cars, the growing plants... I was tempted to wander down into Hornbrook, but I think would’ve honestly cried.

Up the highway and through the pines, taking deep breaths. I’d never been to Heaven, _per se_ , but I knew enough about things to know what to expect. My first glimpse- a shoddy white wall where no wall should have stood felt like an appropriate introduction. I had to admire Michael’s dedication to an aesthetic, building a seven foot brick wall in the middle of a desolate forest, just in case some deer decided to take up arms.

I followed the length of the wall until I could spy an open gate. Guards, but no actual iron fence in the way. This would’ve been great if I wasn’t certain the guard post was a twenty four seven, though utterly pointless, position.

Then again, I guess it was doing a good job at keeping unsavory types like me out.

I’d been spotted a good thirty feet off, and I was surprised to find I had yet to be speared through the head. I approached the sillily dressed guards and gave a polite, angelic salute.

“ _Hello._ ” I was trying my hand at angelic; I knew the basic idea, but it was hard to formulate complicated sentences. I just hoped one or two words would be enough to clear me through.

The guards were both clearly astonished, but they made no effort to sheathe their weapons. They started quickly chattered- to each other and to me- in angelic, but it was so mixed up and fast that I couldn’t get a single word.

Angelic was a fucked up version of latin, basically. I’d studied it in high school, and I’d had plenty of time to learn a few words. But angels had a unique grammar system, complicated slang, and very little regard for the language theirs was related to.

“ _I am with Percial._ ” It took me a long time to stumble these words out, and while I think the guards got me, neither seemed particularly pleased or impressed. “ _And Michael._ ” I gave another salute. “ _I go?_ ”

“ _No_.” Ouch, I knew _that_ word.

Speaking of ouch, the next thing I felt was a knife to my neck and a whole lot of pain. Good thing it was over fast.

 

Death really isn’t fun. It’s pain, it’s aching, it’s suffering- you know, that kind of thing. Then this kind of sinking feeling, like the world is quicksand, or your friends just did that trick on you that makes it feel like you’re falling through the floor.

Then you’re out, in this spasm of dark light, the sort you see if you rub your eyes harder than you should. When I was younger, I thought the dots in my eyes were atoms, and the fuzziness of things meant I had the world’s most powerful eyes. Turns out I just needed glasses. Never got them though.

There’s a fall, and there’s a rise, and then I was back again. Blinking at the sun, usually lying in the grass. I always awoke in the same spot in my old backyard on the cycling Earth, under the oak tree. I’d catch my breath, shake a little, and get up. Sometimes I’d lay there and pretend everything else had been a dream, and that my mother was dead and I was merely thirty-five.

It wasn’t one of those days today. I went right back to the Hellmouth, up through Hell, and straight back to Heaven. My last body had been tied to a tree a little ways from Heaven’s gate, and I tried not to look. It... always threw me off.

“Hello,” I said, in proper English this time, because what the fuck were they going to about it? “I need to speak with Michael.”

“I-I’m not sure _we_ can.” The angel on the left stuttered out. His winter outfit looked ridiculous, but then again, so did most angelic clothing. Michael probably did the designs himself, and they were a strange smattering of modern and hand-sewn, bright dyed cowls to match wing color over fur lined white tops, bits of useless armor, and store-bought jeans.

“Please, I am sure I can think of a number of things that would get his attention.”

“Can you wait here?” The other guard said, glancing behind him. There was no one else in sight.

“I’d rather _not_.”

“Then- Here, you can write what you wish, and I will deliver it to him. Meanwhile, wait.” He handed me a piece of paper from his pocket, on it was scribbled a little bit of angelic- a symbolic language that I couldn’t decipher. By his form, I’d guess he had been working on a poem.

I shook my head. “That’s not going to work. Let me in.”

“Your sort can’t,” The guard insisted, “Infernal beasts... I can be felled for even speaking with you, but I dare worry what you would do to me if I didn’t.”

“How about nothing?” I said, “We will walk through together, and you will say nothing. The fact we are heading towards whatever palace Michael has built for himself will be enough to quell any concerns.”

“No,” The angel said. Then he said it again in angelic.

“How about yes?”

Oh. There it was, that fear in his eyes, that childlike belief that magic was real. Michael and I were cut from the same cloth; born with that desire to foster such ignorance, to protect and to isolate.

The guard on the right started to lead without a word, frowning and clutching his little knife in his hands, rubbing its oil-slick colored blade like a prayer was inscribed in its imaginary steel.

There was another wall at the far end of this one, and I had a feeling Heaven was divided into proper spheres. Except you can’t quite do that on a two dimensional surface, so circles it’d have to be.

The first one was wide, with old house and plenty of crops. Angels worked in the fields, and far off some were running. A couple sat on the walls.

It was surreal, and it took a moment to settle in: the number of men. Heaven was all _men_ , I knew, but it still seemed unnerving, like I had stumbled into a strange rural summer camp for wayward young adults.

The second circle was smaller than the first, though not by much. There were more houses, and proper streets, and... working street lamps? Looks like they weren’t living without every inconvenience. We also passed an outdoor bath, which I tried my hardest not to stare at.

I swear to God, Heaven was the gayest fucking place I’d seen in my life. That’s what you get when you enforce absolute chastity _and_ teach everyone that physical affection is normal.

Well, it was normal down in Hell too. And Earth. But not really for me. Plus, I mean, what else was I supposed to think when I caught sight of twenty men bathing naked together, some cuddling? That that wasn’t extremely gay? _Come on._

Around here I caught sight of a real monstrosity: what seemed to be the world’s least safe tower that definitely wasn’t part of the old human architecture. It was wide, white as the walls, and hopefully structurally secure, rising out of the third circle of Heaven like tall towers are prone to do.

Oh, the other angels had been noticing me at this point. I was flush with the same sort of feelings that attention always brought forth, but mostly wrought with worry one of them might lash out and lose me another hour to death. So far they hadn’t been doing much else but stare.

Most of the angels were in their twenties, but some I suspected were an edge younger, a little wider eyed than their fellows. Even with the spare two hundred years tacked on.

We were stopped before we could enter the center of Heaven proper by one of the few women in here. Her hair was a strawberry blonde mess of tangles and not, and it was far longer than it needed to be.

She started off at my angel escort in a dialect of angelic that I nearly could grasp. I certainly got that she was asking who I was, and why I wasn’t yet dead. Of course, I probably could’ve guessed as much.

My escort was dismissed, and the woman put her hands on her decoratively armored hips and glared at me. “What is it that you want?”

“Did he not tell you? To talk to Michael. Don’t worry, he’ll want to see me.”

“No, he won’t. I have heard of your bloodcraft, and I will not kill you now. You may walk out now, but if you return, I will strike you down each time.” Something about her brash, raspy voice was familiar to me.

“Has Percial returned to you yet?”

She shifted on her feet a little, “No.”

“Lovely. It’s a fun story, believe me. I’m sure Michael will be very interested.”

“Not very likely.” Her voice was brisk and quiet. “He doesn’t care for him very much.”

“That’s probably even better given what he’s probably going through right now.”

“Listen, demon, your speech can’t persuade me of much besides further anger. Please, leave.”

“What sort of ruckus do I need to create to get him to show up?” I muttered loudly, looking around. The angels watching us were perhaps the least comfortable audience I’d ever had. I took a deep breath and whistled as loud as I could, three distinct though wobbly notes.

Michael and I had known each other for a long, long time, and those notes were straight out of our childhood, from when we were both loud brats. Now, only one of us was.

The female angel seemed deeply off put by my action, but had yet to think of an appropriate response. I whistled again.

There was a cry from far away, in the third circle, and past the scattered group of angelic observers I could make out Michael making his way over. When he spotted the clump I was in, he dove out of sight to the right, and in a few more minutes he was perched on the wall above us.

He was the same, as ageless beings tend to be. Juvenile mop of blonde hair styled out of his eyes, pale blue eyes shining even from this distance. The angels around me all averted their eyes for a moment, and crossed their chest before looking up again.

“Cassiel!” He shouted. “ _Who is this?_ ”

“ _A demon,_ ” she replied, “ _Why did you come?_ ”

Michael crossed his legs. Despite it being October, he was wearing capri length loose white shorts and a short sleeved shirt with gold embroidery. In what I assume he thought was a regal statement, he had a small crown of golden points behind his bangs, five gold bracelets on his arms, and even five clip-on ear cuffs.

“Hello, Michael Lexington,” I said, “I think we need to talk.”

“You think.” The enthusiasm in his voice died with every millisecond of those two words, and I think he finally recognized me. If not- well- he knew the name.

“Demon,” Michael said. “ _Demon_.” He laughed a little. “We’ll talk then, yeah?”

“Michael-” Cassiel urged, clearly indignant.

“Cassiel.” Michael hopped off the roof, the angels again taking a moment to cross their chest and avert their eyes. He fixed his shirt and grinned, turning with a little spin on his heel into deeper Heaven. I followed for a few steps, before he stopped. “Cassiel, are you not coming?”

She seemed as surprised as I was, and ran with, still holding her head down like she had misbehaved.

“Michael...” Business first. Business first. “Michael. The situation down in Hell is not pleasant. I mean, Percial sort of... mistakes were made. I need you to go through with this peace meeting though.”

“What?” He smiled like he hadn’t heard a word and was pretending he had. “I’m not going to hold peace with the demons. What’s the point of _that?_ ” He laughed.

“Just meet with them, without blood. Tomorrow, even- who cares?” I said.

“What’s this about blood?” He looked like the cleanest cut of kids, perking up at that word as if it was the title of his favorite TV show.

“Percial... killed a couple people the other day. I don’t want to give the full story, just trust me and hold a peace meeting.”

“I don’t want to.” He cocked his head. “I mean... again, I’m simply not into the whole concept. Peace? What comes after? Ha! Nothing interesting.”

“Michael.”

“Don’t say his name,” Cassiel whispered.

“Michael Lexington, please. I need to go back there with _something_.”

At the end of the street, right below the white tower, was the ruins of an old hospital. Michael nodded to a confused guard and led us inside.

“Sure?” He spoke only as we came to the second floor, an area that had been converted into one long room. A bunch of couches surrounded a beat up table, and several of the old rooms were now bedrooms. I could see Michael’s room from here- his name wasn’t on it, but the steel surface had been painted with illustrations of michaelmas daises.

“Sure,” I said, to test him.

“Okay. We’ll meet on Earth, in their cabin in the woods, tomorrow. I will sit with the demons, and I will eat their food.”

“ _You shouldn’t do that_ ,” Cassiel said, back to angelic.

“ _Why are you here with us?_ ” Michael said in reply, and she left in red faced shame.

When we were alone for a while, I looked Michael in the eyes. He was the few people I could do that with, just stare him down. “Do you remember me?”

“I’d like you to be there, demon.”

“Do you know who I am?”

“I have a very good memory. There’s over a thousand angels, and I know them all. I’m very smart, you know?” He laughed gleefully.

“You’re very talented, Michael,” I said, and he smiled dumbly, like a golden retriever. It was what he wanted to hear.

“I am,” Michael said, validated, “So what are you doing here?”

“Now?”

“Still.”


	21. Pretty boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mannie lingers in Heaven and speaks with the other Archangels.

You know, I didn’t leave.

Michael told me to get moving, and I just stared him in the eyes for a little bit longer, and sat down on the couch. He blinked at me a few times, and then joined me, just inches away.

I put my legs up and curled into a ball, and then I thought for a bit until Gabriel came through the door.

“He..llo,” He was clearly unsure what to do, and mouthed something at me. I don’t understand people who think I can read lips. I mouthed ‘it’s okay’ back, and he rolled his eyes and went to the fridge.

They had a fridge, and there were pizza boxes on the floor. There was a CD player on the table, and board games on the shelf. Gabriel sat down on one of the other couches and cracked open a soda.

“What do you do around here?” I asked him. Michael had yet to acknowledge his brother.

“All the actual work.”

“Still?” I said. Michael glared at us, the first real drop in his saccharine attitude.

“You’re coming up from Hell, right Ella?” Gabriel said, “Any news to share?”

“Please don’t call me Ella. Percial went ahead and committed manslaughter, but half of it is my-”

“Per ruined his task!” Michael exclaimed, suddenly interrupting, “And now we have to try diplomacy all over again. Of course, I have to wait to see if poor Perce even gets back alive.”

“I think he will,” I said, “They wouldn’t dare piss you off.”

“Do they know who we are, though?” Gabriel asked.

“You know, I doubt it. I think they get there’s some angel named Michael though, and they might not like the sound of that. But only because the idea of an archangel is a tad frightening.”

“Don’t you?” Gabriel said, finishing up his soda. He went back to the fridge to get another, “Hey, Ell, you want anything?”

I was going to answer, but I could see Michael twitch a little, ready to jump in again. I just nodded, and Gabriel returned with a slice of cold pizza for me.

“Demons hate angels, angels hate demons... it’s the natural order of things,” Michael said, with an educational air.

“I have to get back to Hell pretty soon- do you want me to put in a word that you’d like Percy back immediately?”

“That sounds-” Gabriel started to say.

“ _Who cares_.” Michael loudly cut him off, “It’s just Perce. Old _minor canis_. Little dog, barely even a dog- who gives a fuck what happens to him?”

“You...?”

“No, he’s probably happier burning up in the pit with you and his _ariem_ girlfriend _._ Everyone up here hates him, you know. They call him the lapdog of the Seraphs, always following at our heels and begging for approval. Too curled up in my lap to make friendly with anyone else.”

“He’s your fifth guy though.”

“Oh.” Michael’s face fell for half a second.

“We could use him back, Michael,” Gabriel said slowly.

“Of course we could.” He nodded slowly.

Another square of time passed quickly, Gabriel eventually leaving to take care of business and Michael not budging from the couch. I ate my way through the fridge, and settled onto another couch to take a nap.

I was awoken a little better rested by Raphael, the next younger brother of Michael. He was nudging me on the shoulder with great worry, and when I got up, he gave a friendly smile.

“I would’ve preferred to keep sleeping,” I yawned.

“Sorry. Hi! Mannie, what are you doing here?”

“I’m a bit overdue for a visit, aren’t I?”

“By two hundred years or so, yeah. I barely recognize you.”

“You look exactly the same.”

Raphael laughed a little, and I made room for him to sit next to me. He was small and stuck at sixteen, with red hair and too many freckles. While none of the Brothers looked too alike, he was the obvious black sheep of the family.

Michael glanced our way, and Raphael waved. “So, uh, what _are_ you doing here?”

“I owe someone a favor.”

“Michael?”

“No.”

At about the same time, Michael also said, “No.”

“This is sorta weird.” Raphael said nervously.

“Demon here just came to beg for help. I’ve decided to oblige.”

“Oh, cool.” Unlike Gabriel, who was less than impressed with absolutely anything Michael had to say, Raphael had a genuine respect for his oldest brother. It was comforting to see that hadn’t changed, even after all these years. I suppose I hadn’t changed my habits much either.

Raphael also seemed to have come here just to grab a drink. He offered to grab me something like Gabriel had, and I could see the hurt on Michael’s face at this.

He left shortly after, saying he had to get back to the infirmary, leaving Michael and I alone again. For a while, I was determined to nap this one out again. But then I realized I had no clue what I was waiting for, what I expected to happen.

“How’s Uriel holding up?” I asked.

“Excellent. I suppose you had to learn the names of the angels in school?” Or from a book. Or from a TV show. Or from you. “I... don’t know why you’re sticking around.”

“Do you want to play a board game?”

“No.”

“Maybe you should draw something,” I suggested, and he sprung onto his feet and ran to his room. He walked calmly out a second later with a sketchbook, and watched me with beady eyes, maybe trying to think if he acknowledge me for thinking of this.

“Gabriel and Raphael know you,” Michael said, focusing on his sketching.

“Uriel would too.”

“I don’t.”

“Are you sure?”

He looked up, fraught with shock, and if I didn’t hold him in a long-wrought contempt, I would have apologized for hitting such a triggering point.

“I know who I am,” he whispered, “But not you.”

“Okay.”

“Yeah? That’s right?”

“Yes. Archangel Michael, the eldest Brother of Blood, the first seraph of Heaven.”

“Right,” Michael said. Then he added: “Demon.”

 

There wasn’t a clock, but half an hour later Gabriel returned with Percy in tow.

“Er,” Percy stared at me in shock.

“Hi guys.” I said, leaning back. Michael was still working on his sketchbook.

“How-”

“Don’t worry about it,” Gabriel said.

“Your angelic clothes are just as bad as your human ones, I see.” I sat up to make room for Gabriel. Percy kept standing. He was wearing some semblance of a button down shirt in mint and grey, with a spaulder over his left shoulder and a bright green cowl around his neck. It was not a particularly flattering look.

“And you’re still weaseling your way into places you don’t belong.”

“I’m not the one who killed two people this morning and skinned a third.”

“But you did kill one, and created the scenarios that hurt the others. And they were your _superiors_.”

“I didn’t kill Rhamiel.”

“His body was on your back.”

“Rhamiel died a long time ago,” Michael said.

“While that’s quite poetic, it turns out it isn’t true,” Gabriel said calmly. “Percial discovered this morning that he had been held captive and harvested for flesh.”

“Hm.” Michael frowned. “Who knew demons were capable of such intelligent acts?”

“Gabriel tells me you want to still go through with diplomatic negotiations,” Percy said. “Please, those creatures are... monsters. I’d be happy to never see another one alive.” He glared at me as he said this.

“Too bad. Tomorrow, the night of the cycle change, we’re going to have a blast. Rhamiel’s been marked dead for years, and no one outside our circle is going to think anything otherwise, _vis?_ That is the end of this conversation.”

“What’s our end game?” Gabriel asked.

“Everyone else to be dead,” Michael answered immediately. He put his sketchbook on the table, and I noticed he had been drawing me. “Percy, who needs you? _What purpose do you really have?_ A bodyguard, not an advisor. _Get out_.” Michael weaved angelic differently than the other angels, more like it was a second tongue. And he had an accent to him, a heavy way with the old words that I could understand completely.

Percy left in a subdued huff, and Gabriel put his arms behind his back. “You could stand to support him.”

“What is he, a child?” Michael said.

“His girlfriend just broke up with him,” I added helpfully.

“Ha! I love hearing news like that. Thank you.” Michael looked at me thoughtfully. “What is your name?”

“Is it not ‘demon’?” I answered.

“Of course not,” Gabriel said with a sigh.

“Call me Mannie.”

“I’m less than fond of that.” Michael said, somehow bemused. “I guess you already know my first and last name.”

“Even your middle name.”

“Please don’t remind me!” He smiled like a sunny schoolboy. “What are your hobbies?”

“Gardening.” Gabriel backed off, again trying to say something to me via eyebrow gestures and mouthed words. He retreated to his room shortly after.

“What is gardening, anyway?”

“I guess mostly weeding. It just sounds a lot more fun to say gardening, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah. Wish I had some hobbies.”

“You’re an amazing artist.”

“That’s something that takes skill though! The only trick to gardening is having spare time.”

“You could easily start a garden here in Heaven. It’s basically the same as farming, except you get nothing from it and a flower garden takes up a lot more space than a herb one.”

“I’m saving it for later, I think.” Michael hugged his knees to his chest and smiled at me. He was always smiling, of course, but this was one of his real ones. “When I’m done with this gig... at some point. I’m going to have a wide house with polished floors. You can teach me how to garden then.”

“Again, the only real trick is starting.”

“I’ll be too busy caring for my wife and children to start without you.”

“Yeah?”

“Obviously.”

“Michael, do you know I’ve known you for years?”

“No. And please stop saying that, it’s really freaking me out.”

“You mean something to me.”

“And you mean a lot to me, gardener. Please, I think it’s time you went returned to Hell.”

“...Yes.”

New friends first. What an odd concept for me to abide by. Michael didn’t move off the couch, but he leaned forward and grabbed his sketchpad again, immediately starting another drawing.

There was no one to escort me out, but I guess that wasn’t supposed to be a problem. Either that or Michael had no moral qualms with letting me get pointlessly knifed again.

Michael sometimes came across like a total idiot, but he honestly was pretty smart- more than I usually gave him credit for. God knows what was wrong with him- back when we were kids, it was even harder to pinpoint mental illness. Now he was running a massive, supernaturally fueled cult, and I couldn’t tell if that made things simpler or more difficult.

I guess, to be fair, there wasn’t really much proof he was mentally ill to begin with- there was always just something off about him, and we had all adapted to walking on tiptoes around him. Maybe that’s what changed him, or maybe it was everything else before it. Hard to say sometimes if it’s trauma or the aftershock that does you in.

Sometimes I thought it was my fault he was like this now. We had been close, before.

Heaven wasn’t perfectly circular, it looked like. Behind Michael’s hospital house was a wall that seemed to lead straight into the forest, suggesting a more oblong shape to the settlement if anything. If I was stronger, I would have climbed it to avoid the hassle of walking out.

Everywhere I walked, angels would stop moving and stare at me, but none seemed sure as to what to do. Percy appeared at one point, led by a very distressed angel, but when he saw me he merely grimaced and turned back around.

The buildings of Heaven were all in a disarray of repairs, some with rotting walls and roofs, wrecked walls with moss already rooted. Angels poked their heads out of holes and doorways, disturbed by my presence. In the second ring of Heaven, about thirty angels came rushing out of an old hotel, weapons drawn. Cassiel held them back for me with a grim nod. A couple of angels hissed, ‘ _Ariem_ ’. Ram.

Well, I didn’t have horns, but they’d learn that only with my death.

Word had definitely gotten out that some sort of strange non-angel was wandering through Heaven since I had first arrived. I was nearly on a parade route to the exit, soldiers, farmers and- whatever else angels could work as- gathered around me, fearful to disturb my casual trek.

I caught sight of the other women as I went, notable by how much berth the male angels gave them. One of the most gorgeous women I’ve ever seen glared me down in the second circle, getting dressed in the middle of the street and snarling as I look too long to look. A girl with straight, pale brown hair watched meekly from the top of the gate, almost unnoticeable. A short girl with a fluffy mane of dark hair peered at me from behind Raphael in the third circle.

Each with hair a little longer than they looked comfortable with. It was fun, looking for patterns.

At the final gates of Heaven, the guards me through to the empty world outside without a single word. Sometimes I wondered if any humans had accidentally come here, stepped through one of the odd rifts that populated the old Earth and found themselves in a world without.

I think Michael would have killed them.

I tried not to make eye contact with my corpse on my way out.


	22. Try Hard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mannie returns to Hell to meet with Blake, who is unwilling to leave.

Right down to Hell I went, and straight for The Blues and The Banes. It was about one PM, luckily- the place was deserted, save for a group at the back. A vaguely familiar group. They were crowded at and around one booth, with Blake in the very back, writing something on a piece of paper.

I ran up and moved a woman aside so I could talk to him. “Blake! I was hoping you’d be here. Come on, I’m done my debts. It’s time we get going.” Not to Earth, not until tomorrow’s midnight would it be safe for him to go there. But somewhere else in Hell. Maybe I’d take him to Heaven.

“What?” The group fell silent. Blake looked at me stunned. “I’m... busy right now?” He said. He gestured to the papers he had lain out, full of notes and pictures.

“A-Alright,” I said, stepping back and letting the group reform.

“Alexander gets back today from his stint on Earth- and with the chaos erupting post... this morning, there is no other time but now. Like, this is our time.” A girl with white dreads and a bright red cap was trying to prove a point to an older woman, perhaps the leader, but she kept glancing back towards me cautiously.

“They’ll hit us quick. You know what they did to Roy when they found him? You know what they’re doing now?” Another one of them- another rebel- said. “We have only eighty members scattered throughout the city, and there’s no guarantee how many will be willing to fight. We have so few weapons.” She shook her head. “The time is not today.”

“The time will never be today if you think of it like that,” Blake joined in. “We _can’t_ overpower them- this needs to be a social thing. Make a stand, get martyred maybe. Be the voice of the people, and the people will come around to it eventually.”

“Dude, we just need to run up there and take control,” The first rebel, with the red hat said, “You know that’s how Alexander did it? Just ran in during a time of turmoil and declared himself in charge. I guess the government just ran with it.”

“That’s stupid. No way that works.”

“But it _did_ work!”

“Excuse me,” I said, “Are you trying to overthrow the government?”

“We’re a rebel group. It’s what we do,” Pepper said. I had noticed her there, with her blinding green hair, but she’d be rather nonchalant the whole conversation. “Of course we’re trying to start a rebellion.”

“Don’t do that.”

“What did you think I was doing?” Blake asked me.

“This. But I figured it was a game more than anything. You can’t seriously plan to meddle with Hell’s hierarchy, right?”

“It’s... what I’ve been doing for the last few days. You’re the one who keeps running away and doing God knows what- No offense, but I have responsibilities to attend to. Please let me finish them.”

“What? What are you doing, taking notes? Isn’t that a bad idea for a group whose existence is illegal?”

“I’m taking notes, but also, you know, ideas. We don’t really have a _name_. I think we need one.”

“No, that’s a stupid idea.” I watched Blake shuffle through his papers, evidently needing textual evidence for his next point.

“So, The Few are... The F.E.W., right? A big, powerful acronym-”

“One of the worst acronyms I’ve seen in my life-”

“ _Thank_ you, so if they’re The Few, we could be... The Rest, maybe? It’s a work in progress.”

“So this is what you leave me for,” I said, “What does it stand for then?”

“Excuse me?”

“The Few is an acronym for the three departments of government in Hell. So what does the R E S T stand for?”

Blake looked deep in thought. “Well, R for rebellion. Rebellion, Everyone Stand Together?”

“I don’t know if you could have a job in this.”

“Lay off him,” Pepper said, with a little wave.

One rebel, the most ‘I owned a yacht once’ of the lot, nodded. “That could be a chant. We’ll figure the logistics out later, what’s important now is branding.”

“Real Eggs Stay True,” One of the rebels said, unprompted.

I rolled my eyes at the wave of giggles. Half the people here looked like punks with a padded wallet. The other half probably owned at least two belts. There may have been overlap on that qualifier, however. Belt ownership perhaps wasn’t the best descriptor to help point out that some of the rebels were perhaps not a hundred percent serious in their dedication to this cause.

Also, to clear the air, I have nothing against punks.

“Blake, we’re good to go. You should already know what the rest of the meeting is going to be like- ‘Now is the time, let’s rush the square and seize the towers, yada yada...’ Let’s go do something else.”

“I’m glad you seem to certain that _now_ you’re going to finally take me to Earth, Mannie, but... why don’t you get something to eat? This might last another hour or so.” He had a kind face, but something in his tone bothered me.

I considered saying something, but instead I paced away in frustration and sat on purpose as far as I could from the table. From far across the room, the conversation couldn’t be heard, and I cradled my head in my hands and tapped my feet.

Revolutionaries were dumb, and I didn’t like Blake getting involved in them. But I suppose he could have fell in with a group of acrobatic clowns for all the difference it would have made in my mood.

As relieved as I was to have found Blake, I was still feeling stressed. I could only take eight minutes and fifty-one seconds of waiting before I caved and returned to the table.

“Blake, come on already. Let’s go.”

“Mannie.” He sighed. “I want to talk to you in private, but you’re going to have to wait until this meeting is done. Can you handle that?” There was a sympathetic look in his eye like he was apologizing to his friends for my presence.

Like Kell, or like anyone who wasn’t Michael eventually came to act.

I was struck by a sweaty and thick wave of anxiety, a hammered in realization that maybe Blake had finally learned he didn’t need me anymore. And I’d fallen straight into the endless pit of thinking that I couldn’t leave alone. I’d spend enough time half worried for this kid, convinced I’d walk out of here his savior, a lovable friend.

Except Blake wasn’t an idiot, and he wasn’t a kid, and he had gotten a little bit wiser every time I’d left him on his own.

“No,” I told him, and there wasn’t a single untrue thing in that answer.

He sighed. “Alright guys, just carry on without me. This’ll be five minutes.” He shuffled out of the booth and joined me in walking to the stairwell. He closed the door behind him with a careful click. “What’s up?”

“Why are you even asking that? We need to leave.”

“Then leave. But I-” He paused, looking bashfully at the ground like he hated being the harbinger of bad news. “I can’t. I like this place, and I’ve made up my mind: I’m staying. It’s too much work to start over in Earth again. My family will forget about me when the cycle change comes tomorrow anyway.”

“It’s crazy starting over though.” I felt like I was pleading.

“Yeah. But it’s a new adventure, and God, probably my first. How can I leave some silly, dramatic reality of angels and demons behind for the rigid drudgery of Earth? My memories aren’t all back, and are so mashed about that I don’t know or care what to believe. So I’m not even going try. Might as well make some new ones.”

“We could make new memories. On Earth. I said I was taking you there, and I want to keep true to that.”

“Mannie, you’re really... sweet to keep to your word strongly. I know you promised we’d travel together on Earth, and that you’d make sure I found a new home, and in a way you’ve done just that. Thanks to you I’m here.” Blake shrugged. “I’m sorry.”

“I never meant to do that.” I said weakly. I gestured weakly with my head to the door, “You go back in there. I’m good.”

“You’re good? Are you sure?” Blake asked. “I’m really sorry about all of this.”

“Good,” I said, and Blake left me.

 

Kell had bags under his eyes and series of square bandages covering the new scar on the right side of his face. When I’d gone to the hospital to enquire about him, the attendant told me he’d already been dismissed, and eventually I found him in the cafeteria, staring at a tray of food.

“Oh, good afternoon Mannie.”

I kept waiting, hoping he’d say something else.

“Hm? What is it?”

I continued to look at him. It was discontenting to see him in anything other than one of his sleek dark blue suits, and a loose white tank top and sweatpants did not suit him well. Old grey scars crept along his shoulder bones. He was skinnier than I’d pictured.

“I want your honest thoughts on me.”

“You want praise.”

“Honestly though.”

“Honestly? You’re fine Mannie. You’re fine.”

“But what else?”

He closed his eyes. “What is your actual reason for coming here today?”

I hesitated for a second. “I messed things up with Blake and I’m scared and I don’t know what to do.”

“Oh Mannie. You make me feel like _such_ a primary school teacher.”

“So what do you think?”

He sighed. “I think you need to learn to deal with your own problems.”

I stood up to address him, “Whatever. I already know what I’m doing.”

“Don’t get passive-aggressive with me, Mannie. Or, in that case, not even aggressive. Mostly irritating.” He was spinning a fork between his fingers, food untouched. “It’s remarkably hard to tell which of us is the ageless immortal sometimes.”

I sat back down and put my head in my hands. “Sorry.”

“Excuse me, what was that?” He said, delighted.

“Sorry, okay! I’m sorry for... being so short with you. I don’t mean anything by it. You’re one hell of a guy. I mean that in both a positive way and a negative way.”

“Hey, I’m not looking for you to praise me here.” He said, taking me for joking.

“You are a huge prick though. A real ass. A right bastard. But you’re pretty reliable, I guess. Yeah.”

“The way you string together your words together is truly _music_ to my ears.”

“I hate you, but I guess you’re ok. Probably somewhere more than ok. But certainly hovering somewhere above terrible.”

“I should add these quotes to my resume. Hire you to write my letter of recommendation and watch the jobs roll in.”

“You’re not taking this seriously.”

“Wait- are you?”

I blushed and tried to think of something to mumble. Kell watched me for a bit, expressionless, and then stood up and left the cafeteria. A little late, I followed him.

“I should hope you’re not planning to trail me all day.”

“I wanted to know, do you have a house? Or apartment, I guess?”

“Have to live somewhere, yes. Why are you asking?”

“I guess I was just wondering.”

“Seems like a strange thing to wonder about, don’t you think?” His voice sounded uncommitted to the conversation, deep, rumbling, and far off. Like a storm might, I suppose, but it sounds silly to compare the two.

“No, not really. Is it any stranger than wondering what you do on your days off?”

“They’re in the same field of play, I’d say. Very similar, right in the line of ‘strangely personal questions’. A field, I must admit, I wouldn’t have expected you to look into.”

“I’m just curious. That’s all.”

“Ah, but even that’s off for you. Do you feel ill?”

“No, not at all.”

There was a good, long pause in our conversation. “I’ve taken up cross-stitching.”

“What?”

“It helps me concentrate, even if my vision’s going. I put on a radio show, sit in my arm chair, and work on my cross-stitch. It’s very relaxing. I don’t really know why this interests you.”

“I think I could use a hobby,” I said, “that, or new friends.”

“You may be right there.” Kell laughed sorely. “But first you should ask yourself: how many friends do you have in the first place?”

“I have a lot of old friends.” I said, thinking it over. “Blake is my friend. I don’t really think of you as my friend, but... what else could we be?”

“A boss and his increasing concerning employee.”

“Really?”

“No, Mannie. God. You’re my friend if you consider yourself to be. Just- maybe you have better things to do than talk to me right now.”

“I like talking to you.”

“I’ve had that impression.” Kell stopped in the lobby of the hospital, slowly sitting down in one of the green chairs there.

“Are you okay?” I asked. Kell let out a huff of air as he settled, crossing his legs and picking up a magazine.

“What exactly happened with your friend?” Kell flipped through the pages of his magazine, never pausing to read.

“I don’t know. We were going to head to Earth. I’m a terrible idiot though, so we kept... not going anywhere. Now that I’m actually all set he doesn’t want to leave. He’s holed up in The Blues with a bunch of rebels, having the time of his life.”

“Okay. Go without him. Get his phone number, come back a few months later, and get back in touch.” Kell said. “The cycle change is tomorrow night, you know, taking him to Earth before it would have been a lot more damaging to your friendship than any squabble.”

“Well, I thought we’d wait it out here. At first I didn’t really care, and was all set to just let him get reset off with the rest of the humans? But I’ve grown really really attached, and...”

“Either talk to him or leave him alone. Your choice, not mine.”

“Wouldn’t be fun if it wasn’t though?”

“No.”

“Oh. Tomorrow there’s going to be another peace meeting on Earth. No convoys, no surprises. Just the archangels and you guys.”

“I’m not going to question why you believe this is going to happen, but I will note that it’s not. Even if you arranged it yourself, we’re dealing with too much right now to bother.”

“Ok.”

So I got going.

 

In the western half of the south eastern quarter of Pride, there was a small indoor garden, and it was the worst place in the world. I’d been going there for years to relax.

Fake plants mixed with several real ones in a concrete room with a sloppily painted mural of a forest. There was a steel bench covered in rust and chips.

A bottle of lavender scented air freshener kept the place smelling chemical.

I waited for an hour, and breathed, taking in the greenness of it all.

 

“Good news,” I said as soon as I opened the door to The Blues and The Banes, regardless if anyone heard me. “I have good news,” I said again, walking towards the rebel group.

“What’s this about?” Someone muttered. “Again?”

“Again, yes, and again this is for just Blake.”

“Is it so personal that I have to get up?” He gestured in front of him, as if to point out what a hassle getting in and out of the booth was going to be.

“Yes.”

He began to stand up, but then sat back down again. “Really? What is it?”

“There’s going to be another peace meeting on Earth, tomorrow, and we need to go.”

“Shouldn’t we go _tomorrow_ then?” He asked slowly, over emphasizing each word.

“Percy has to head back to Heaven today, and we need to take him there.” I hoped the eternal monotone of my voice was enough to hide my lies. “Kell said so. As a sign of goodwill.”

“I thought Percy left a while ago?” Pepper said. It was difficult not to be aware of her presence in any given room, but in my anxiety I had somehow managed.

“Not to Heaven.”

“Oh. What held him?” Pepper’s voice was saccharinely simply sweet, but in her dark eyed gaze I could tell she knew _exactly_ what I was trying to do. And she was fully aware of what she was doing, too.

“Kell?”

“I can’t go to Earth alone.” I said. With a little bit of tremble and the tiniest of shakes.

“I believe that,” Blake said. “But everything else? Mannie, I’m above average in intelligence. At the very least, average.”

“It’s been over an hour- shouldn’t you guys be done conspiring by now?”

“Yeah, we’re eating.” Blake gestured to the table, covered in bowls of chips and dip. I hadn’t even noticed all their little planning documents were now in a neat little pile off to the side. “Do you want any? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you eat, you know.”

“I’m good.”

“Please eat something.”

There wasn’t anywhere to sit near the booth, so I took a few chips and settled in the booth next door, feeling right miserable about myself suddenly. Maybe not suddenly. Maybe I always felt a little bit awful, and it was sheer determination that kept me from not mentioning it to anyone.

I could hear Blake laughing at something.

Thirteen long minutes later, the door to The Blues opened, revealing Kelsey and Kell. I peered out at them from my cushioned booth, listening as the rebels were thrown into a rushed and hushed frenzy, shuffling away paper and hiding one of their members under the table.

I got up on my feet. “Hello.”

“Thought you’d be here,” Kell said, “Your plan, of another peace talk... If the archangels are willing to meet, we need to take advantage of this opportunity to study them up close.”

“We could always try poisoning them,” Kelsey suggested.

“That too.”

“Tomorrow, right?” I said. “Well, I guess I don’t need to ask you that. It will be tomorrow. The angels will arrive around dusk.”

“I don’t quite understand why you’re so certain, but yes.” Kelsey said. “I’ve been told to listen to whatever you say.”

“Unfortunate, but true.” Kell added. Then he gave a small sigh. “Blake. Come with us.”

He didn’t budge. “Why? Everyone’s so desperate to get me out of this place.”

“Maybe because nightclubs in the afternoon are no place to hold a resistance meeting,” Kelsey said. One of the rebels flinched. “Oh, come _on_. It’s painfully obvious.”

Blake’s mouth twitched, something I wouldn’t have seen if I wasn’t staring so intently at him. “Look, I can’t do it today-”

“I’ll arrest you and your friends for conspiracy and treason if you don’t,” Kell said flatly.

“How long.” Blake said. He got up slowly, and made his way over to us.

“An hour.”

“Why.”

“That’s up to Mannie.”

Everyone looked to me. I thought it over for a few moments. I didn’t really have a plan besides ‘go’, I now that I thought of it, did I really need an excuse besides that? “Let’s pop by Earth. About time, right?”


	23. Gardener

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mannie tells Blake about her past.

“I just want to talk with you.” I was leaning against one of the walls of the elevator, clutching the railing as the old thing buckled and flickered with bronze light.

“I get that.” Blake was sitting on the ground and staring at the floor.

“You said you were going to come with me.”

“I think I know what’s wrong with you at this point, you know? I think at some point I realized that maybe this Hell wasn’t much more than a bunch of humans with horns, and that anything odd about you had nothing to do with the afterlife.”

“There’s nothing wrong with me, Blake.”

“ _Please_.” He paused. “I’m sorry.”

“I just wanted to get you away from the group, okay? We should have gone in the city and stayed there, but now we’re here, and we’re going to Earth.”

“Not through the portal, I notice. Won’t this take us to a wasteland?”

“More trees than a wasteland. I just want to talk.”

“When we arrive, I’m going to get back on the elevator and head back to Hell. Alone,” Blake said, “I’m super sorry, just... I can’t deal with you. I don’t want to, and I think at some point I have to realize I don’t owe you shit.”

“Don’t-” I squeaked, flinching. Oh God, that was the weakest thing I’d ever done. I was never going to forget it.

“Get yourself together. I mean, who are you? Who are you trying to be? I get this really big feeling you’re always lying to me. You’re certainly rude as hell, but you seize up the moment the littlest thing doesn’t go your way. I’m sorry, but I’m sort of sick of you.”

Getting told off by Blake was the next most embarrassing thing I’d been through after that squeak. It was absolutely mortifying for the first few seconds, where I held my head and generally felt shocked. Then it sank in that nothing about it was particularly mortifying- he was just being honest. He was correct, and I could recognize it as such, _and-_

A lot of me was ashamed then, that I was still thinking I was somehow above his judgement. He was my friend now. He knew me well enough to be correct.

I was just, in general, a fucking mess. That’s all.

What I wanted to stay: ‘I’m sorry’.

What I said: “If you come with me now, I’ll leave you alone forever.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t know if I want that either. I just need a break, and we’re planning a protest in the square, and I’m not _there_ , and-”

“Please let me go.”

“That’s probably a good idea.”

We were quiet for a couple minutes.

“We’re at th-” I started to say.

Blake interrupted, “I know how much of your emotional wellbeing rests on my shoulders. It scares me. You need to learn to take care of yourself, not just the one or two people you’ve imprinted on.”

“I’m not a demon.”

“Is that true?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” Blake looked up at me. “I just want you to know that I don’t hate you, and you should try not to hate yourself.”

“I’m an deathless immortal who’s been alive for two centuries.”

“I’ve grown from knowing you,” Blake said carefully, “I think you’ve grown too. But sometimes you run out of growth, and things get stagnant, and then there’s no more point.”

“Does friendship really have a point to begin with?”

“Friendship is about mutual trust, platonic love, appreciation, and connection. And nearly anything else. You were someone who grabbed me and dragged me places. Sometimes you lied, disappeared for long periods of time, and more than once your actions lead to violence. And actual, bloody deaths that I will never be able to wipe from my mind.”

“You killed an old man.”

“I pulled the plug on a tyrant while high on painkillers. You lead me into a blood stained room and the most traumatic event of my life.”

“So we’re at the end of the line. The last bud. You know, most plants can continue growing past the terminal bud if cared for properly.”

“Why the sudden plant metaphor? But sure, yeah. Just not us.”

“...I like gardening.”

“You don’t seem the type to have hobbies.”

“That’s really mean. Do you have hobbies?”

“Not really. Sorry, I guess. It’s just, you’re so ridiculously secretive about your past. I don’t even know your last name.”

“Avila. If I told you, would you like me?”

“I’d only know.”

“Fair enough.”

The elevator always took ages. I started speaking:

 

“Back when I was more than a couple of years younger, I had three friends. They were the ideal trio for a children’s novel, and I was off to the side, knowing them.

There were the twins, Michael and his sister, and Phin. Phin hated us calling him Phin, so naturally it’s all we ever called him. I don’t think I knew his actual first name for years.

We’d grown up in an orphanage, my past being a little less tragic- my mum ran it. She was from a rich family and slightly air headed, and had spent some long number of years rearing the few orphans she could rake in. It’d been closed since I’d been born, but in school I’d constantly been waving off piteous remarks.

The twins’ parents had been family friends of my mother, and when they died had died, she’d taken the children in. I’m not really sure the legality of it, but we were from Hornbrook- a small town, twinned with Deerfield, and never quite intent on following common law.

Phin had been left there by his father, when he was very young. Hornbrook was a friendly place, but a town smaller than most colleges proved suffocating for him. Being one of maybe eight non-white people in a town where you had to drive forty minutes to get to a chain store felt a little off, too.

He was always going on about traveling. He had a plan to get on a plane to India. The plan ended there, somehow convinced that’d be enough, that he’d sit right down and his father would be the passenger next to him.

He left our family first.

Someone had been hosting a bonfire. When I had first heard of this, I had confused ‘bonfire’ with ‘campfire’. This was a mistake. In the throughs of bitter January frost, the bonfire burned a circle of heat around it. I shed my coat within fifteen feet of the towering blaze.

I don’t know which of us knew this person, I only know that we’d walked over one frigid night and ended up there.

I suppose it was a nice party though. It wasn’t trying to be. There wasn’t any music, and the alcohol didn’t rare anyone up as it did calm everyone down. The air was drowsy, and if you wandered too far from the fire, smothered you in a chilly breeze.

Out of the three friends, I was closest to Phin. He was always a guy you could trust to think big. Not like it ever got him anywhere, but I liked how much he thought regardless. There was a sense his mind was never still, and even if he tended to drop goals as quickly as he had formed them, I admired his gusto.

When we were sixteen- well, we were a smattering of ages. When he was sixteen, the twins were fourteen, and I was fifteen, he told us we were going to be in France by the time he was finished with high school. If we all got jobs, saved every penny, and stuck to a binder he had allocated specifically for this project, we’d soon be walking the fields of Europe. Somewhere in France, probably.

This didn’t happen. But I still liked the idea.

Phin was the smoothest talking teen this side of the mountains, I swear. He could get anyone hyped up, and even when he failed, we all really, really liked him. Every word he said felt like it was meant j _ust for you_. You’d only realize something was off when he’d slip up and tell you a story twice.

Phin once had this friend from school, Sycamore. She spent a lot of time with us as we grew older, and one day, got this idea in her head that soon she’d be leaving town. She was as broke as the rest of us, and eighteen years old, but suddenly she was dead set.

She started making a list of everything she wanted to do before leaving, like the world’s most boring bucket list. She wanted to swim in the river, and go to the farmer’s market. Still, Sycamore came to carry the list with her wherever she went- we’d be walking along, she’d spy an advert for a fair, and she’d rush to write it down.

When it was a month before her long-set departure date, she had a long list and little time to do any of it. And still she’d add to it, to hike the mountains and to ask the boy she liked out. But she never did get around to any of it, I think.

Phin was sad to see her go, but he took a keen interest in it. I didn’t understand why, but I acted as though I understood. Her last day with us held no mention of the list, but rather a series of tearful goodbyes.

And the next day, indeed, she was gone. The police looked for her, but nothing was found for three days. They eventually discovered her body in a forest on a mountain, mutilated by wild animals.

And the twins cried, but Phin seemed as sturdy as always, if not a bit down. I didn’t know why until the bonfire party.

He’d found himself a demon. I didn’t know of such things at the time, but there was a strange man at the party, and something about him did seem... oh, I don’t know- demonic? Strange? He looked like he could have been our age, vaguely, but in a small town like ours there weren’t kids we didn’t know.

No one bat an eye though, and he drank with us. He went by Crawford.

We followed him the second he left, urged by Phin. Crawford must have known- four teenagers in the snow are never good at keeping quiet. Still, we followed.

We were all angry at Phin, and he refused to offer an explanation. Crawford led us to a bed and breakfast a far ways down the road. After he’d had gone to his room, Phin took us inside and bought one room for the four of us. He set up a night watch schedule despite our protests.

I remember, when it was my shift, I just fell back asleep. I was leaning against the wall, ear to the door for the slightest sound, listening to the sounds of breathing. At the other side of the room, a stone fireplace brought heat and the scent of pine. And the window, left the slightest bit open, brought in a light breeze.

I was woken by Phin, who just shook his head and took the next two shifts for himself.

I always liked him best.

The next morning, we woke before Crawford, and Phin brought us breakfast to our room. Now that it was dawn, we were all fussy about school and my mother noticing, and how long it would take before the sheriff would be called, but Phin promised he had taken care of it.

He got on a bus out of town, and so did we. When he walked into the woods, we followed. It was not subtle. Deep in the woods, we came to a structure about seven feet tall, made of grey concrete, with not clear doors or windows. Crawford climbed on top of it, and jumped in.

Phin ran after him, and followed suite.

We were all a little spooked out, no longer feeling so silly about all this. We looked among ourselves- at fifteen, I was the oldest after Phin. They never really thought of me as the oldest though. That claim went to Michael.

He followed Phin. His sister and I looked at each other. Wordlessly trying to figure if we were supposed to disappear like that too.

Michael came back soon after he left, and he offered no explanation of what had happened. He returned, and we left.

I did miss Phinny after that. But it made sense that he would be the first to really get out there and see the world.

 

The twins and their family were an odd bunch. A mixed bag of insurmountable odds and bad luck. The first father had left when the twins were five, perhaps because the third son was an obvious bastard. Less than a year later their mother was remarried. This is the father that died, later, though none of the children had ever felt particularly attached to him.

The way Michael told it, he had been raising his brothers since he was five. It was very, very difficult to not doubt this. But he didn’t talk about it in any other way, so I guess that’s how he remembered it.

Again, I’d known him since I was born, but arguing with him felt cruel.

He told me of nights in alleys, sleeping under cardboard boxes. He told me that when he was growing up, he read his siblings stories from a book on the romans- but of course, I knew he was nearly illiterate.

I didn’t believe him, but his words were so vivid. He said he found chalk one day, and covered the alley they slept in with columns and birds, and deep in the cold nights he used to promise them that they were nothing more than lost royalty, soon to be reclaimed.

It was so silly, but something about me felt happy with him. We were close. I held his hand once, and it was warm, and on the occasions he wasn’t lying, he was a good person to chat with.

He liked birds. He liked music. He liked everything. He liked me, and I liked him, and it’d been that way for years. He played the violin, which is a thing people do sometimes, and it always felt like he was playing for _me_.

He always was trying to give me everything, so I always felt obligated to be there for him in return.

My mother died when I was nineteen. I’d been half homeschooled, never graduated, and the discussion of college had never been a thing. I might never leave this town. I’d probably never leave this state. I would die here. Okay.

The twins were seventeen. Technically, I was their guardian- I wasn’t sure. The law never stopped by in Hornbrook. Nothing changed when my mother died. We just had an influx of flowers delivered to our door.

Over the summer, Michael’s sister had gotten a job at a radio station. She was a quiet girl, with a soothingly low voice, and everything about her suggested jazz fit her aesthetic entirely. Still, sometimes she’d stop the music and play a tune on her ocarina. I don’t think it made her a particularly popular DJ, but then again, who was listening?

Besides me.

About a year in, the fall after she turned was eighteen, her family and I gathered at her station.

Michael had decided it was time to head to college. His sister didn’t want to head anywhere, but the other brothers agreed with the oldest. Only the twins were even old enough to attend college, of course, but it seemed the other siblings were just restless. They just wanted to see another town.

I was unsure why I was even here, so I left them arguing.

 

I didn’t see them for a week after that. They had left, I guess. But then they returned. There were just four of them then, a number short of perfect, and Michael asked me if I had seen his counterpart.

I had not. He grew worried and stressed in the day he spent searching, tearing through town and searching the woods. But she was nowhere to be found. He clutched his heart tenderly, complaining about an ache. He knew somewhere, long before he arrived, that it was too late. She was dead.

You know how twins are. Especially identical ones.

The next step, logically, was to learn what had happened. We went out and bought five candles, and the five of us sat in a sort of pentagon, holding hands.

The younger brothers were all nervous, their hand clammy. Michael, the once twin, was for once calm. It was a new part of his personality, the first of many: first he would calm down completely. Then he’d forget.

He lit the candles. He read from a book. He summoned her spirit. And in his head, I really believe he heard her voice. And that was all he needed to be satisfied.

We made her a little boat out of driftwood and lit it on fire in a lake. Michael called it a proper roman funeral. None of us wanted to risk correcting him.

He left, and he never did tell me if he got into college or where he was staying now. He didn’t ask about me either. He was cleansed, and I think that was when he left me behind for good.

When I went home, I tuned the radio to an evening of sleepy jazz and the occasional, rude, ocarina solo.

 

Oh, but before all this happened, we were as thick as thieves. But that time came and went.

I’ve been trying to avoid speaking of myself so far, and I think I’ll keep up that habit.

But once they left, my life didn’t really change. They were much more friends with each other than they were with me.

When I think about now, really, it’s nearly how hilarious how successful all of them became while I’ve just been wasting away in the same town, and the city below it, yet to leave this state.

I had a small garden in the orphanage. I looked after the dog. I looked after the building.

And later on, I went to Hell.”


	24. Greenhouse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mannie continues her story

“The fuck does that mean?”

“What?”

“What then happened, I mean, to everyone?” Blake said. The elevator had arrived a few minutes ago, and we were standing in the damp space where it let out. “You told the story, but what about everything... else. There’s no structure to it. I’m just not sure what I’m supposed to get out of your childhood.”

“You wanted to know.”

“I’d like to know more.”

“Look, I guess there is some stuff left to cover. And I’ll tell you it sometime,” I said, “but we’re here now.”

“What’s the point of checking out this empty Earth though? What are we going to do, go on a nature walk?”

“You know, in theory, everything on the cycling loop has a copy here. You could find someone’s skeleton and show it to them. Or steal some art and suddenly have a perfect copy.”

“Interesting, but I don’t have time for that.”

Blake followed me out though, up a small mossy incline that was coated in soil and bugs. There was a perfectly square hole above us, and a rusty step stool was in the corner to help ease the climb out.

The air was rich, damp, and green. I couldn’t help but feel _healthy_ somehow. Two hundred years with only a few thousands humans left, and they barely left their little cult.

Oh, hey.

“Do you want to check out Heaven?”

“What? Is that up here? I’m pretty certain I don’t, thanks. The last two angels I’ve met haven’t been too friendly.”

“Pepper’s nice.”

“I... yeah.” Up on top of the Hellmouth, Blake looked around. “So this is, I guess obviously, the place from your story. Does Hell have just one entrance?”

“Is that so odd?”

“Not really. It just feels like it should be more international.”

“Souls are reaped from all over, but they all end up here. It’s all fairly local, though there is some effort to encourage diversity.”

“You’d think, with all your silly magic, Hell _could_ have branches all over the world.”

“Hell was built by humans. Not in the dramatic metaphorical way, just, you know... that’s a real city down there. Someone put it there, though God knows it’s before my time.”

“Weird.”

Blake followed me as I started to make my way to the highway, even as it started to drizzle. This trip was supposed to be my last chance for bonding time with Blake, and he seemed mostly over his anger with me, but I found myself unsure of what to say. I could finish my story, but then he’d leave me.

“Hey, what did you sell your soul for anyways?” Blake asked, pulling his hoodie up over his hair. “I know you hate personal questions and stuff, but I am pretty curious. You know my whole sob story.”

“Oh, it was a boring request. Not even worth your time.”

“You know better than to say that around me.” He looked up and caught my eye with a smile, and I guess the asphalt and the forest were making him as happy as they were making me, because it was the first time he had smiled at me in a long while.

“It’s part of my other story. Another thing that happened a long time ago.”

The rain was starting to pick up. Now I was remembering how much of a pain rain really was when it was coming down on you, ruining clothes and running down your face. The highway was covered in cracks and grass, and the signs were rusted to abstract concepts.

Fog was now starting to roll in, upping the weather from dreary to miserable, and the ghostly shapes of buildings could be seen in the white expanse.

“I’m not a big fan of getting soaked out here. Can we turn around?”

“I don’t really want to.”

“I promise I won’t leave you.”

Pause.

“Please.”

“Okay.”

 

That was it. We hurried back to the Hellmouth and called the elevator back while wringing out our jackets. When it came, we both settled on the floor, and the expectation was clear: the rest.

Yeah, okay.

It was this:

 

“I sold my soul when I was twenty-two. I found an incubus and demanded he take the damn thing.

When I first got to Hell, it was through the main entrance. That concrete structure. This was before I sold my soul, and even later when I did, I was never collected. Nowadays it’s too late for that: the cubi who held my contract is long dead.

After Phin and the brothers left, I was alone. Nothing changed about my life or my habits. The orphanage was closed- it had never really been open, honestly. The kids had just come. Now they were gone. Alright.

Mid-april of the next year, and I decided to pay the brothers a visit. His birthday was in a few weeks, and I prepared a bouquet of his favorite flowers for a present.

He had neglected twice so far to tell me where he had gone, but I tracked him down regardless to a large college and a good size house where he and his brothers were living.

I don’t know how he got into college. I don’t know how he got a house. He told me it was all from the government, but somehow that sounded very doubtful.

The second oldest, the always frank Gabriel, explained they had had their parent’s fortune tucked away, waiting until Michael was old enough to access it.

That really didn’t explain the college though. Michael promised his superior social skills and exciting life story made admission a breeze. Gabriel told me he wasn’t even in college, just hung around the campus and occasionally snuck into classes.

The younger brothers were the most pleased to see me.

Michael didn’t recognize me anymore.

I didn’t try to explain myself to him. I talked to him a lot, and he told me his life story for the second time. He grew attached to me quickly, and showed me his favorite movies. He was happy to see I had guessed how much he liked white lilies.

The second youngest- Raphael- tried the hardest to make his brother remember me. But he gave up eventually, and even his efforts were marked with a sort of tried acceptance. Not once did any of us ever sit Michael down and explain who I was and who he was. We all knew it was going to be pointless.

Michael introduced me to his new friends, as well as a large group of people he referred to as ‘his following’.

He had started, what no matter what he said, some sort of cult centering on himself and his brothers. It made me uncomfortable. It made his brothers uncomfortable. And yet, it kept growing. Hundreds of people from all over were in this cult.

It didn’t quite make sense to me, at first- sure, he was surprisingly charismatic. He was friendly enough, too, with a well-practiced skill for keeping himself at the center of attention. He knew how to manipulate with kindness, to isolate and control, and had a number of crazed ideas tumbling around his head.

So yeah, the more I thought about it, the more sense it made that he had stumbled into a second life as a cult leader.

He tried explaining the philosophy of it, how he and his brothers were actually Earth-bound deities or something, but I wasn’t paying attention. Later, Gabriel sat me down and tried, best as he could, to make sense of why they were all going along with this thing. Why they’d pretend to believe him, and take new names, and feed into this-

The answer was that they weren’t, really- he just wouldn’t listen. All three of them told him they didn’t want to claim new identities, new names, but Michael had made up his mind. They said the cult was a bad idea, and the oldest just said they’d have to tolerate it.

‘Technically, it’s harmless,’ Gabriel had said, ‘and you know, it’s an interesting way to meet new people.’

He bought me flowers on his birthday. White lilies, a returned favor. Then he was hit by a car.

I left after that.

 

When we were all together, we used to play in the woods. We’d pretend to be royalty. Or cats. Or some sort of strange mix of the two. Either ways, we could waste a summer day on nothing more than a house made of sticks and ferns, and by dusk we would all cram in and feel very proud of ourselves.

Once, a little ways into the woods at a place where the brook ran along two great boulders, Raphael found a young bird. He crouched over it and called us over.

Phin and Michael always had the most energy for this sort of thing. Michael in particular had a certain obsession with birds, as he owned an encyclopedia with lots of pictures of them. Sometimes he’d ask me to read the names for him. He kept asking me even into his teenage years.

One of the brothers pointed out it was a sparrow, and Michael said he recognized it from his book. He picked it up, and rather rudely examined it. It was very young, and didn’t seem too injured, but it was making a lot of noise. He stretched out one of its wings.

The rest of us all wanted to hold the poor thing as well. Raphael asserted his right as the discoverer to hold it. Phin said as the oldest, it was his right. The youngest brother said something similar.

Michael’s sister had the most empathy for the actual bird. She pointed up to the tree, where a nest sat among the branches.

If there’s one thing kids love more than animals, it’s having a quest. Michael was the best at climbing trees, and it became his job to put it back. He cradled the bird firmly and stuffed it in his jacket pocket.

We all urged him on from the ground. Michael had too many talents, and one of them was climbing trees. He just about flew up there, and once he had reached out to the nest, he flashed a thumbs up.

We left the woods that evening as heroes. But Michael in particular was excited. It was only when we reached the house and were going to bed that I learned why: he had kept the bird in his pocket. I was going to comment on how quiet it had been, but then he reached in to show it to me and found it dead.

He didn’t want to throw it out though. He kept it under his bed in a shoebox, and lined it was grass and soil. He only let me see it when he was tending to it in the evenings, working on sketches.

It was all pretty morbid, but children can be like that. I finally convinced him a memento would have to do, and he spent a night peeling off as many feathers as he could from the corpse.

We took the mangled body outside, and under the stars, burned it. He played a nice little song on his violin as we did so, and I read an eulogy.

 

After the Michael’s death, I said my goodbyes to his brothers and went back to my hometown. After dealing with him, I figured it was about time to check in with Phin.

So I went to Hell. You know the place.

It was a different city, run by a single dictator named Naomi Sato. She was a nice old lady though, and the city seemed to be flourishing. This was before The Few existed, and before the angels.

Phin had found a job as a scientist. The term scientist is perhaps the broadest term to ever exist, covering so many different jobs and fields that the word practically shouldn’t even bother existing. He wondered about stuff, and sometimes talked about the things he wished he could know.

He, unlike Michael, was very happy to see me. He asked if I had sold my soul, and I told him I had just walked in. He laughed and said the same was true for him.

He was studying the soul trade. Why is existed, how it worked, and what limits- if any- existed. Even in these olden days, there were strict rules on soul selling, on what you could do and couldn’t- because, as far as anyone knew, you could do _anything_ and it’d work. Grant vast knowledge, change someone’s entire appearance, make someone a millionaire- it’d all happened before, and then never allowed to happen again. Cubi had to lie about their limits, for the sake of not ruining the world.

Phin never learned a thing, but he seemed happy to try, and it was immediately clear I no longer had a place in his world.

I stayed with him for five years. His biggest achievement, he said, was some strange elixir he’d found while crawling around the old parts of Hell.

‘The fuck were you doing there?’ I’d asked.

‘Crawling around looking for shit,’ Phin had answered.

There were vials of it in an old lab he’d found behind a rusted door. It’s gone now, boarded up and probably only accessible if you were to crawl through the maintenance tunnels past Lust.

Anyway, the first year and the four after were all about this strange serum. It killed everyone we put it into, at first. Spread through their veins with a dark grey hue, making people screech with pain, rolling over and clutching their gut until death. Phin was really into it though, once we found some people it worked on.

A couple years in, Naomi Sato’s reign crumbled. Phin was happy about this, as a lot of young kids tend to be. Well, he was twenty-four at the time actually. Maybe that made his support all the more legitimate.

That made me twenty-three. Old as fuck, it felt like. A lot more than aimless.

On the day of the big uprising, Phin had told me how he was set to give it his all. This was one thing he wanted, he told me, something he _really_ stood for. And he was ready to fight on the streets for it. Hell didn’t have a need for much of a militia at the time, but that also made spare weapons sparse. I knew this was a fight he was going to lose.

I made sure he missed it, turned off his alarm and slept right in. When he woke up, all in a rush, I did everything to make him lag behind. I faked a limp, and made up a few crises in the lab. He knew I was lying, but he was always such a great guy.

Really my favorite.

This was before the big news team was a big part of Hell, so when we got to the center square and saw all the bodies, that was it. Grey streets, white buildings, and bloody bodies. The military was gone. There was barely a crowd.

Phin raced forward, and I turned around. Time to return to Earth.

 

So what did I sell my soul for? Well, not long after that I tracked down a sales demon by the name of Cecil Callahan made him an offer: my soul for companionship.

I didn’t know what I was expecting, but Cecil sat down and said okay. We didn’t shake on it. I have my doubts we ever had a deal to begin with.

He lived with me, and he was quiet, with very nice hands.

There were years between happenings, and this was fine with me. I didn’t leave my town, but Cecil was here now. So that was good.

One day, there was something wrong about the morning, and by mid afternoon the world had jumped back to May. This was distressing for a number of reasons. We’d jumped back not just months, but over twenty years. I’d lost furniture. My garden was smaller. Technology was upsettingly low functioning again.

Also, I was twenty. A jump back of fifteen years.

Do you get how long that is? It’s awful.

Cecil was still around, at least, but he hadn’t changed. The world did, however, every nineteen years. The dates- May fifth and October twenty-ninth- weren’t lost to me. But I ignored it.

Cecil and I stayed together for the rest of his life, some twenty-five years later without answers, and after his funeral I...

I don’t know.

Seven cycles later, and I returned to Hell. That’s one hundred and thirty-three years. Don’t try to imagine how I spent my time. I don’t know myself.

I called in a few favors, worked around a few strings, and had a nice little job in a top tier accounting office in the newly named Greed, working for Hell’s most proficient retired killer.

Everyone I once knew is dead, yes, but I’ve always enjoyed working with numbers. Meeting new people. Seeing the world.

You know.

That sort of thing.”


	25. Homecoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blake and Mannie return to Hell and witness the aftermath of a rebellion. Mannie runs into an old friend.

“So you’re _actually_ an immortal? Can you prove that?” Incredibly enough, my story alone hadn’t been enough to fill the entire ride down to Hell.

“If you shot me in the head, I’d be back with a new body within the hour.” My back was getting stiff from sitting.

“What happens to your old one?”

“It stays.”

Blake looked grossed out, then recovered and said, “I don’t suppose there’s a final part to this? Some kind of end all resolution?”

“For who? Phin? I haven’t seen him since. God knows what he’s been doing without me.”

“He’s immortal too?”

“All my old friends are, unfortunately.” I paused. “I hate them all.”

“I know that’s a lie.”

“Yeah. Sometimes that kind of thing just slips out of me.”

“Sorry, but have you ever considered, I don’t know, not lying? Not losing your temper? Just being _nicer?_ ”

“When I try to act nice, I just end up feeling fake. I’m not really sure. It’s just kind of hard for me.”

“You must have positive emotions for _some people_ , right?”

“I feel like I’m lying no matter what I do,” I said, “But I do like you, okay? That’s always going to be a thing. For a while. We were good friends.”

“It’s been a week.”

“But a good week, right?”

The city wasn’t quiet. The moment we stepped out of the teal tiles of the entrance hall, there was the soft rumble of far off clamor. A couple feet into the city and there was a series of muted gunshots.

“What’s going on?” Blake frowned, and sped up his pace a bit. Yeah. Well. Only one thing could be happening next, and I’d made sure to drop several obvious hints about it just ten minutes ago.

The sounds were starting to become more distinguishable. There weren’t many people in the streets, and those that were all seemed to be walking in the same direction of us. At one point a small group of soldiers ran past us. The ground shook for a few seconds.

“What’s happening?” Blake asked, speeding up. We wove the tangled crowds towards the central square, taking in the smells of extinguished gun smoke.

The square was a mess in just one way- at least the buildings were fine. The people were not. Like scattered rainfall, blood was drizzled and splattered across the square. Bodies, laying like bodies on the concrete, were given the too-red scene the splash of color it needed.

About twenty max were dead, though soldiers were still carrying in new bodies. There was no movement to create neat piles for now- this was an image left to last. The three screens of the square displayed different angles of the massacre. At the far end, surrounded by teal-coated soldiers, was a man.

Blake was unhappy. This was very much an understatement. “I was supposed to be here!”

“Good thing you weren’t, huh?”

He looked at me, wobbly and teary-eyed. “Everyone is dead!” He tried to scream it, but his voice couldn’t handle the strain, and instead he nearly had to whisper.

He fell to the ground in what I thought was an over dramatic mood. I tried to help him up, and he slapped my hand away.

“Hey. It’s fine.”

“These were my _friends_ ,” Blake sobbed. “Jesus _fuck_.”

I sat down next to him. “Hey, you’re still alive, and that’s good. Come on. They must have warned you rebellion is totally illegal down here, right?”

“Not helpful,” Blake chocked out, “I was supposed to be there with them.”

“To do what? Protest? Break into Alexander’s penthouse? Literally, you were all going to die at some point. I wasn’t really expecting this, but I’m not an idiot either.”

“I was supposed to be here.”

“You weren’t. I made sure of that.”

“Fuck you.”

“I saved your life.”

Blake sat up. The man across the square had been obscured by his tall guards, but now he was stepping forward. The television screen on the central tower captured his face.

Surrounded by his army and in the sharpest of attire, Alexander Scott wasn’t an intimidating sight. He was short and messy looking, his hair perfectly matching the fake fur that lined in coat. This was the first time he’d been seen in public in... well, a year. But before that it’d been many years.

It looked like he was about to give a speech, but instead he was simply frowning, barely turning his head to take in what he’d ordered. Most of The Few were behind him, lined up and stiff, like kids called out of class for a fire drill. Kell in particularly stood out, but maybe that was because I was staring him down.

I had business to attend to, that much was clear, but I couldn’t leave Blake.

I nudged him lightly on the shoulder. “Hey. I don’t see Pepper.”

“Yeah, but you know who I see?” It was hard to really understand what he was saying through all the tears. “Everyone else.”

“Hey, but you’re safe. That’s good, right?”

“No, of course it isn’t. For fuck’s sake Mannie, I’d rather die for a cause than be the last one standing.”

“This is just survivor’s guilt. You’ll get over it.”

“Yeah. I know. But for now, it’s shit, and I don’t want to talk to you. I just want to throw up.”

“Come on. Stand up. I have something to do across the square.”

“Do it without me. Like you prefer to do everything else that isn’t directly fucking me over.”

I clenched my jaw. “I _saved_ your _life_.”

“You’re an actual psychopath. Or sociopath. Whichever one’s worse. Look, Mannie, okay? No one can fucking stand you, I promise you that. You keep dragging me places and making choices for me, and I don’t care what’s ‘right’ half the time! I just want to do whatever. Even if I die,” Blake wasn’t done crying, but his voice was clear now. Every word distinct. “I’m sick of pretending I have the patience to put up with you.”

I curled my fingers, one at a time, and I balled them into fists. And then I released. And I looked back behind me, at Alexander and The Few, and reminded myself I had some _unfinished business_ to attend to.

And it wasn’t that Blake couldn’t wait, it’s more like he wouldn’t wait. And I had some unfinished business with him too, a lot of it really, but it was too late for that. Too damaged to go back on. And too late to fix.

Alexander waved off the couple soldiers who seemed worried about my approach, and let me onto the stone platform. Behind him, the couple members of The Few still alive looked mortified.

“Do you know who that is?” Kelsey urged. “Because someone will probably die if you let Mannie get even an inch closer to us.”

I stopped just a foot away from him, and he turned to me to look me in the eye. And then he smiled.

“And here I thought you were getting out of this place!”

“It’s hard to quit an old habit.” I pulled him into a brief hug. “Good to see you again, Phinny. Thanks for sending those hounds after me. Fucking waste of good clothes, that was.”

“Consider it my pleasure- and please, if you’re going to call me by my middle name, could you at least keep it to ‘Phineus’?”

“Phin, the moment I do that is the moment my soul’s finally left my body and gone down to true Hell.”

“You two know each other,” Kell said flatly.

“Oh, yes. Long ways back.” I was smiling despite myself. Hard not to get caught up in emotions when running into an old friend.

“We grew up together,” Alexander added.

“I have a request for you,” I said to Phin, “Is there a way we can talk in private? This blood puddle is absolutely ruining my shoes.”

“Absolutely,” he said, turning around and walking through the line of The Few and back towards the central building.

His soldiers, unsure of what to do without him in front, stood there restlessly. The cameramen were also unsure on who to focus on, and eventually one or two of them broke off to film me and Phin walk up the steps. But Phin waved them off with his hand, and they returned back to the group.

“A lot of shit has happened since I last talked to you,” I said.

“I wish I could say the same. I’ve just been hanging around collecting economic data or whatever. Boring as shit and I didn’t technically finish. You know, from what they tell me, you’re the one responsible for me getting called back early? They got all cautionary about it too, saying like ‘Mannie will kill everything you love’ and I had to hold back from laughing.”

“Actually, I’ve really been living up to that fear lately. I about caused that mess back there”

“Doesn’t it look eerily familiar? Except this time no one’s going to rush out and kill the dictator while everyone’s distracted. No such thing as another me.”

I looked behind me to make sure Blake hadn’t moved. “I can’t stay long.”

“When have you ever?” He stopped me in front of the doors and placed his hands on my shoulders. “But promise you’ll visit me again.”

“Unfortunately.”

He frowned, then laughed. “So what is it you want of me this time?”

The main building, technically named ‘Casper’, had a lobby like a hotel, with plush red, black, and gold carpeting, and tons of sofas. The elevator was gold plated. Probably not real.

“Maybe one or two things. I guess it depends on your opinion.”

“I’m not the best at advice. Why do you always turn to me for advice?”

“You’re not supposed to know about this, but tomorrow night the angels are going to sit down and do peace stuff with the others.”

“‘Peace stuff’? Like another sit down meeting? I’d really not like to lose another two to three of my inner circle to another terrible idea.”

“This is happening.”

“Okay, Ella. What of it?”

“I need you to make sure someone’s there. And give Michael a chance.”

“What happened to you?”

“Oh, nothing much. Nothing at all, really. It’s all in the past.”

“And it’s enough to make you consider peace with Heaven? I thought we were on the same page about this.”

“I’m allowed to change my opinions over time.”

“What, over a few days?”

“Whenever. I just need to make sure someone is where I need him for the cycle change.”

Phin stared at me. “Oh,” he said.


	26. Higher beings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alexander Scott and Mannie reconnect, and Mannie has a plan for what comes next.

Alexander Phineus Scott had come to power about a cycle ago. He did not look twenty-five, let alone forty as he claimed. He’d taken over after the previous CEO’s death, but in truth had been more or less running Hell for the last hundred and eighty-five years.

He had a good run at first, taking power after Naomi Sato. He was still a dictator, but he tried his best to keep things fair. He was also in his mid twenties, and a complete idiot. He had no idea what he was doing.

The Few had been his idea. It had started entirely with the zodiac theme, since he liked the idea of Hell’s leaders all being vaguely occult. Plus he thought it was a really cool way to govern people. The opportunities were endless for things like merchandising, designing, and themed parties. None of those things ever happened, but Alexander always thought the possibility was there.

The name had come later, actually, after ages of planning. F.E.W.- Finances, Etc., and War. Fucking amazing. The zodiac part of it was more important anyways.

When the first cycle change happened, Alexander had been very surprised, and more nervous. He’d aged during his first reign as dictator, even after the cycles had started and the Earth had reset- he, like me, had been in his late thirties when the second cycle change had started, and now he was stuck in the scrawny body of a twenty-one year old.

Not like he hadn’t been scrawny before.

As uncomfortable as he was with his sudden age change, it did make it slightly easier to live in Hell. He often pretended to be a bastard child of himself, before he took to just getting a haircut and changing his name every couple years.

Nineteen years ago he decided to come out of the shadows and make a proper run at ruling again. The job of the Ophiuchus, the ruler and CEO of Hell, always went to a member of The Few, and Alexander had only joined a month previous.

He was once again pretending to be some distant relative of himself, Alexander Scott the fifteenth or whatever, and he’d reentered Hell as a soldier with a pretty good knack for killing angels.

The members of The Few were about the same back then- it was only nineteen years- though of course, Aquarius was just Scorpio at the time, and Sydney had yet to join. In her place was Alexander, the Aries.

Alexander, as the newest member, had little chance of scavenging votes from the others. Military members always came and went too fast to be considered viable- though voting would be done quickly, Alexander was still on active duty. There was a good chance, had he not been immortal, he would be killed before proper election.

Lucky for him, no one was else was really a viable candidate. Stacy was interested, but unelectable, and Kelsey was apathetically taking charge, if only because no one else would.

Alexander had nothing really going for him but his guile. He was young, weak, and shorter than his platformed shoes would lead you to believe.

He told me he did some fucked up shit to get where he was, but I didn’t believe him. When I pressed him, he admitted all it’d really had been were a couple of threats. He sent someone after Kell, Kelsey’s best friend, and for a while after that Kelsey had been bitter and uninterested.

Alexander had somehow won. I’d told him my thoughts on this- that Kell was a paranoid guy who probably thought the attack had been homophobic in nature, and Alex had probably just ruined Kelsey’s decades long relationship.

Alexander told me he hadn’t known Kell was bi. If he had, he assured me, he would have asked his hit man to incorporate that. Not in a homophobic way, as he was quick to correct, just that he’d absolutely pay someone to be homophobic _towards_ Kell. If that made sense? Just to really secure this job.

And I said, ‘I’m not sure a gay man can be _particularly_ homophobic’, to which Alexander scoffed something about disliking labels, _to which I_ scoffed something along the lines of exactly how gay he was.

Or, sorry, ‘gay with rare exceptions’. Me and him were raised with small town church sensitivities, but at least I’d gotten over it a while ago. Alexander still was a bit sensitive to be, as he said it, a double minority. My reply to that was that I was one too, dipshit, and then I gave up the argument.

The old bastard never changed.

Oh well. He’d gotten the Ophiuchus chair, and though he’d played himself as calm and mature as possible, his next nineteen years in office did a lot to reverse that image. He was quick-thinking, sure, but only for his own gain. And he had an obsession with killing the angels.

He also, very obviously, didn’t age. At first it was been excusable, as demons aged around half the rate of humans, and often looked youthful for a longer span of time. But in almost twenty years he didn’t look like he had aged even five, and people were growing uncomfortable.

Luckily, he rarely showed his face. He had a total of three public appearances: when he was first elected, when the new angelswords had first been created, and now, when the city was at it’s busiest.

So no one really had time to notice he didn’t age. Except The Few, of course, but he did his best to assure they didn’t speak of it.

 

This is what Phin told me throughout the day, over brunch and over dinner, and over tea and over coffee. We ate a lot, actually. Somehow talking about the past never felt proper unless it was accompanied by some sort of hot beverage.

He was exactly as I had left him.

“It’s _so_ awful being stuck in a twenty-one year old’s body,” he said with dramatic flair.

“You do realize I both am and look younger than you, right?”

“Still. I never hear you complain about it, so I figure it’s my solemn duty.”

We were having hot chocolate on the balcony of his penthouse apartment. One of his bodyguards made sure we never ran out. Phin, clearly a twelve year old stuck in the body of a two hundred and seven year old twenty one year old, had proudly informed me all all his bodyguards were prostitutes. Former ones, actually. Now they were simply fairly attractive girls with guns, who sometimes cleaned his house. He’d never slept with any of them.

“You seem a bit older though. At least since the last time I saw you. Certainly since the last time I saw you before the other last time I saw you.”

“What, a hundred years ago? Hey, maybe we’re still aging, just at a rate of one year for every hundred. Wouldn’t that be fun? I’d be like, twenty-one and a half. Finally on the cusp of proper adulthood.”

“I don’t think Hell is a sustainable enough system for me to reach adulthood then, if that really is the case.” He’d taken up a habit of smoking, and lit a cigarette before offering me one as well. I denied him, even if it was harmless.

“So who’s this friend you want to annihilate?” He said with a puff of smoke.

“That’s not the best way to put it. I’m not _really_ getting rid of him.”

“About the same though, isn’t it? You’re still getting rid of part of him. Trust me, I’ve done almost the same thing as this. But this was pre-cycles, so I had to sell my soul to get it done. And it didn’t end well.”

“This isn’t anything like when you sold your soul.”

“Surely there’s another option.”

“I don’t think so. This is about the only thing I can think of.”

“The only thing you can think of that doesn’t hurt your pride, you mean?”

“...You know, this city being named Pride really has ruined the word pride for me. Same with all the other sins. It’s just weird to use it.”

“Yeah, it was my idea to name the floors like that. Same with all the major buildings. I thought it would validate the ‘Hell is spooky and occult’ thing a bit more, but in hindsight, it is a bit weird.”

“It was a bad idea.”

“I politely disagree.”

The night was blue and black, and I watched the workers below slowly mop up the square. It felt like the city was quieter than usual, a little more still. Like less lights were on, and the stars were just barely dimmed. No one wanted to be heard.

“You weren’t there when I sold my soul,” Phin said.

“It was because of the angels. At this point, I think I’ve figured most of it out.”

“Back when we were running the experiments, back when we really were twenty-one and twenty for the first time... there were four desperately named vials there. And the troubles really started when we got to testing Grace. It only worked on humans.”

I nodded, “Yeah. And Michael was still human then. I always figured you had something for him.”

“ _You’re_ the one who was _dating_ him,” Phin said, repulsed.

“But didn’t you want to?”

“I regretted experimenting on him.” Phin ignored me. “In a lot of ways. That’s what the soul deal ended up being about, this real melancholy over everything I’d done. It was stupid.”

“To be fair, I don’t think either of us were expecting him to survive that shot, let alone return with a couple thousand more test subjects.”

“Do you know what I wished for, fifteen years later, as the all powerful leader of Hell?”

“Why don’t you just say so instead of asking me a lead in question like that.”

He grimaced. “I wished for everything to be fixed, and for things to go back to the way that they were. And for a chance to atone for my actions.”

“How sappy.”

“It was worse when I was saying it. Crying, and all that, right in front of them all. I was weak.”

“I wouldn’t call you weak...” I mumbled, embarrassed at myself for even saying it.

“At least I get a cool title out of it. Angelmaker. Bringing of the end. Something like that. Been spending the last two centuries trying to figure how to weave it into my own mythology.”

“That’s what you get for fucking around with mysterious glowing liquids.”

Phin looked as pensive as his boyish face would allow. “I can’t imagine why that mixture was ever created. That kind of science was... it was just far ahead it seemed highly impossible.”

“Especially for someone who doesn’t know the first thing about science,” I said, “Of course, neither do I.”

“Science is fairly simple once you get used to it. And having a good assistant who can do the work for you helps. Anyways, by the end that day I had created cycles, my experiments had vanished, and the whole lab blew up. It was a fairly busy day.”

“I think I’ve had worse.”

“Knowing your life, I’d give a... five percent chance of that being true? And that’s in agreement with you, by the way. It’s up from zero.”

My hot chocolate had run out, and I waved away the hand of the bodyguard who tried to refill it. The conversation lulled

“So what should I do?” I asked.

“Seriously, why would you even bother turning to me for advice? You’re the responsible one. Hell, you basically raised our friend group.”

“But do you think I should do it? I think I should do it.”

“What, should you purposefully try and get this kid Blake waved off into the great beyond of the cycles? I don’t know. Sure. Or no. Your choice.”

“It’ll be a bit of a pain. He’ll be like two years old. But I’ve waited this long. By the end of next cycle, things will be better.”

“You don’t sound too enthusiastic about it.”

“I sure hope I don’t. I’d hate to sound happy about something.”

“Oh Ella! Truly the light of my life. The joy of everyone’s. The shining muse of subtle happiness. Have you ever considered pretending to give a shit about something?”

“I give a shit about you.”

“Oh my god. Ella. Are you proposing? Is that what this is? Omigod.”

“Shut _up_ , Phinny. And stop calling me Ella.”

There was another long pause.

“Are you starting to realize how terrible this plan is?” Phin asked.

“What do you mean? This is clearly the best idea.”

“Okay, it’s the easiest. But is it really the _best?_ ”

“Yes. It is.”

“Well, if you’re so certain.”

“You know, I really think I am.”

This is where there ought to be a stinger, a thought like: _I wasn’t._

But honestly, I didn’t really know.

* * *

 

an Alexander! AKA Phinny boy.

 

 


	27. October, still

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An attempt at a peace meeting

The next morning, I realized I couldn’t spend the rest of the day just sitting with Phin, but I couldn’t think of anything else to do. I ran a few ideas by Phin, who merely laughed.

First on my list was a visit to the morgue. Bad idea, dumb idea, but I was at the hospital before this really started tot settle in my mind. The morgue was unlocked and by the cafeteria, and luckily the body I was looking for was easily labeled.

This was a terrible idea. Rhamiel had been white enough from years of spent in a prison cell underground. Now he was dead, a new level of pale had been achieved by his corpse. This was gross. His clothes were brown with bloodstains, but otherwise untouched- I didn’t know a thing about morgues, but I’d figured they would’ve cut him open and examined him by now. Did morgues do that?

They probably did that to angels, at least.

I stared at the body for a while. It sat there. Someone had folded his now permanently physical wings behind him poorly, and feathers stuck out at odd angles. Without really thinking I began to straighten them, sticking my hand under the cold corpse and causing him body to wobble uneasily.

Man. The fuck was I doing.

I sat down on a table. It was cold as shit in here, and I... kept sitting. A lot of time passed, or at least, a lot compared the average amount of time most people would spend sitting in a morgue and staring at a thawing body.

Unexpectedly, Pepper came in. She blinked in disbelief that I was here. I stared with similar emotions.

“Small city, huh?” I said.

“What are you doing here?” She asked.

I gestured towards her. When she stared blankly, I said, “Same to you.”

“I’m going to preform funeral rights on,” she pointed at Rhamiel, “This body. It’s rather upsetting to see you... already have it out.”

“Did you know Rhamiel?”

“In death, he carries no name,” Pepper shook her head, “But no, I didn’t. He would’ve known who I was though.” For once, everything about her looked real.

“Don’t you guys burn bodies in your funerals?”

“How do you know that, Mannie?” Pepper said, “Yes. Obviously, I can’t do that now. I thought I’d just drain his blood and sing the song.”

“What’s the song like?” I half wondered if I knew it. If I knew Michael- and well, I did- he was probably using the lyrics of some old lullaby.

“If you help me drain the blood, you’ll get hear it.”

“And how do you suppose we do that?”

Pepper bit her lip. She wasn’t wearing makeup today, and in the harsh light, her hair nearly looked natural. At the very least, she didn’t look tacky. “Normally Vic and Cas handle this sort of thing, and they have blades to pull it off. I figured I could try... maybe if we slit hit wrists lengthwise?”

“That seems a bit disturbing.”

“You’re right. I’ll just sing. Michael’ll get his soul either ways, right?” Pepper fixed Rhamiel’s hair with her fingers, brushing it out of his face.

“Why’re you asking me?”

“You know a lot more than you should about my family. Do you know our funeral song?”

“It’ll be in angelic, so probably not. But you start.”

Pepper wasn’t a good singer, and she started flatly, humming an instrumental part before singing in that messy fake language she knew better than I.

Yeah, I had been right. Not a song I’d ever sung, but an old one Michael used to mumble, a song for his sister that his father had never shared with him. About the stars, infinity, and a whole lot of other things Michael had always felt entitled to own.

I wasn’t good enough with the language to join in, but I listened, sitting on the table still and kicking my legs. Pepper wasn’t a good singer, but lullabies don’t demand anything more than a voice.

When she was done, Pepper did a circular hand motion, said a couple words in angelic, and looked up at me.

“Let’s leave him to rot,” she said. “I’m going to go hang with Christina. You’re free to come with.”

“Sure. I have time to kill.”

“I figured as much.”

 

“What _are_ you doing here?” Christina asked, taking another long sip of coffee. It was over an hour later, and I’d already been in her house for twenty minutes. This question had been thrown around a lot.

“Waiting.” Christina lived in a cabin on the past Earth on permission from Kell, taking care of the place for whenever The Few wanted to get away from Hell. I had a feeling he had a soft spot for her. Maybe if I had blabbed my life story to him, he’d have given me this gig instead.

“I guess we’re doing that too,” Pepper sounded like she was trying to defend me. I guess we had bonded. I guess I liked her a little more than I had this morning.

Was this friendship? Was this how friends were made?

“It’s just a little weird, no offense,” Christina said, “Do you want to watch TV or something?” I was sitting across from her and Pepper, on one of the armchairs in the living room. The cabin wasn’t much for luxury, but it made up for this in chairs. There were a lot of fucking chairs.

“What time does the party start?” I asked.

“I’d hesitate to call it that. The angels are supposed to get here by eight, and everyone else is supposed to show up before then.”

“I’m going to bed until then.” I stood up.

“Mannie, it’s eleven in the morning.”

“Come on, stay with us. We can play boardgames!”

I sat back down. “Okay. Fine.”

“Seriously? That’s what it takes to win you over?” Christina said. “I mean this nicely, but you’re weird.”

“Man! This morning, right, I was putting that dead angel’s spirit at rest, right? Mannie was there, and like, knew our funeral song. Something’s weird about that.”

“Well...” Christina glanced at me. “I get the feeling you know something that’s going to hurt everyone else, like some grand secret best reserved for the finale.”

“Don’t you think the finale was back when Percy had tied everyone up and tortured someone live on camera.”

She eyed me with great worry. “There’s still tonight.”

“Oh, lay off it,” Pepper said. She leaned forward, eyes shining, “Hey, Mannie, are you an angel?”

I shifted in my chair. “Wouldn’t you know me if I was?”

“You look familiar.”

“Probably because you’ve known me for a week. This is stupid. What board games do you own?”

Pepper dropped the subject, but kept looking at me like we were kindred spirits. _Was_ this friendship? Christina owned a lot of board games, or maybe The Few did- but it was kind of silly to think of all them gathered around a table rolling dice like a strange family. Board games had always seemed luck based to me, but I lost at everything we played. After three rounds, we stopped for lunch, and another game later, we heard the sounds of someone entering the mudroom.

We stopped everything. It was two pm, and while it wasn’t inconceivable someone would come early, something felt a little off.

Christina voiced what was wrong, “Who the fuck arrives through the backdoor?” She whispered. The cabin was long and large, the bottom floor being nearly one room, and the backdoor seriously out of the way. It was strange that someone would-

Oh. Okay. It was Michael.

Michael _would_.

“Hello,” Christina stood up and held her hands together politely. “You’re early. We aren’t expecting you until eight tonight.”

Michael looked around cheerfully, with an odd little smile. He picked a framed photograph off the wall and held it close to his face. When he was done, he hung it back up again with a wide grin.

“Hi. Who are you?”

“Christina McKean. You’re free to stay, but I don’t know what there is for you to do.”

“I’ll spend my time with the gardener and the fallen, no offense _arii_. I know them already, you see,” Michael earnestly explained, “I thought I’d swing by early to see what the place is like. I’m already quite fond!”

“How do you know Mannie?” Pepper asked. She’d gone into a little bow at the sight of Michael, and still had her head down.

“Is that your name?” Michael sounded very surprised by this, that fucker.

“Did you tell your brothers you were going?” I said plainly to him, too tired to argue my identity again.

His face was ever unchanging. “No.”

“They don’t know where this place is, do they? You need to remember to tell them these things.”

“Uriel doesn’t even know there’s a peace thing tonight.” Michael sounded an awful lot like he was boasting.

“I know you don’t get along with him, but it’s important you do these things together, as a family.”

Michael sighed, still grinning, and then his face fell into a frown. He turned on his heel and left.

There was a long pause. “ _The hell was that?_ ” Christina asked, turning to me.

“Michael has this bad habit of doing things and never telling people about them,” I tried to explain as matter of factually as I could, “For your peace thing to be successful, it’s important all the archangels are present.”

“Thanks, but you just...” Christina shook her head, “I don’t know what that was, but it adds something to my theory.”

“A lot more to mine,” Pepper added.

“Oh, come on,” I said, “If I were an angel, I’d be showing him a lot more respect.”

“Maybe you’re fallen?” Pepper said.

“You can’t seriously cling to that.”

“I’ve seen your face before.” Pepper pointed carefully at me, like she was afraid to come off as to confrontational.

“Yeah. Yesterday. The day before that. I’ve been on the news lately,” I grumbled. “I’m going to sleep.”

“Where?” Christina asked. “Not in my room.”

“I know where the guest rooms are,” I said under my breath, putting back on my coat for no good reason.

“How’d you know that?” Pepper said with great excitement, turning to follow me as I walked past the couch.

I stomped my feet down every step up the stairs, further emphasizing my frustration at... Pepper, I guess? So much for our budding friendship.

I guess I was more pissed at Michael, as I was prone to be, as I generally could always be counted on being. Every little bit about his existence- boy- that kind of thing really got on my nerves.

After making sure to slam the door to the guest room shut, I collapsed on the bed, rolled around for a while, and quickly got to sleep.

 

I didn’t sleep for five hours straight, but I got up at seven PM regardless, groggy but awake. I edged down the stairs carefully, listening at every step to the sounds of downstairs. It was late enough that everyone still alive from The Few ought’ve been here, and I could make out most of their voices from the stairs.

Closest, presumably occupying the couch, was Noel, Kelsey, and someone I didn’t know. He was bizarrely loud, but sounded quite shy. Probably someone being tried as a replacement.

I creeped up to the corner of the stair well, sitting still as I tried to listen for more voices. Christina was definitely lecturing Pepper about something at the far end of the room. Kell seemed to be talking with Stacy about something, while Glenn was loudly insisting to Lane that she was _fine_ , and needed to be here and _not the hospital_.

Lot of voices. Lot of people, minus five. No Blake yet.

I peeked around the corner. By dumb luck, Kell happened to be looking exactly my way, and our eyes met for an uncomfortable amount of time. He put his cup of tea down, and looked ready to protest my presence.

I hurried into the living room.

“What are you doing here?” Kell got up as I did so. “Please.” He did not need to follow it up with a ‘go’ for me to understand what he meant.

“Sleeping.” I said, spinning in a circle as I properly took in my surroundings. God, this place had a lot of fucking chairs. “Blake here?”

Christina, holding a tray of brownies, gave me a blank look. “Yeah, he’s right-”

At that moment, Blake peered at me from around the corner, in the kitchen. Pepper gave a little wave. I ran the fuck out of there, through the side door and into the backyard. I dodged my way around the house like I was being pursued, and eventually came to rest behind a small pine tree in the backyard, panting heavily.

That had been stupid.

I rolled over onto my stomach, and watched from under the branches. The living room area- which was most of the first floor- had a gigantic rectangle of a window overlooking it. From here, I could clearly see inside. Blake was back in the kitchen, presumably, out of sight, and besides the look on Kell’s face, it seemed as though I’d been instantly forgotten.

It was chilly out. Good thing I still had the coat I’d slept in on. Whose coat was this? Mine? I’d sort of forgotten.

Oh well. It kept me warm.

The angels arrived in one group, approaching the house like a group of trick or treaters. It was October both here and in Heaven, and Michael still had the gall to dress like a tool. And force his brothers to do the same.

At least he’d brought them- as well as Cassiel, and one of the other women. Vaguely, I did remember her old name. I think she’d been the girlfriend of someone. Of course, she didn’t remember that now.

Now she was in a silly dress, nervously clinging to Michael’s arm as he knocked on the door to this den of demons, afraid of automatic lights and other women.

Christina ushered them in with careful politeness, a little head nod as each passed her by- except Percy, who she stiffly kept still for. Michael walked in with a defiant boldness, sauntering and clearly _loud_. He took a seat at one end of the dining table, and held his hands together, looking around like everyone else should’ve already been waiting for him here.

The other angels swarmed the table, settling in the chairs. Cassiel and the other woman especially looked uncomfortable, stiffly refusing to look at too much of the room, and maybe a bit confused as to why they were here in the first place. At least Uriel looked like he knew what a living room was.

Michael was very clearly sizing up the demons, taking a minute to stare at each one, and occasionally shaking his head at the end of each evaluation. Christina had taken it upon herself to try and distract him, pulling up a chair and talking in quick bursts. It was only when she offered him a bowl of mints that he stopped, and he spent the next several minutes quickly eating the entire bowl. Raphael was visibly disgusted.

The new guy- a bulky, jerky looking guy with curled bull horns and a penchant for showing off his kill mark tattoos- must have said something crazy, because suddenly Michael stood up and walked towards him in a manner of aggression more suited to a bird- slowly, like he had feathers to flare up before any sort of action could occur. The new demon also stood up, clearly egging him on- before immediately being knocked cold by a single hit from Michael.

He looked like a wimp, but Grace is a powerful thing. The guy actually was sent flying, knocked right back onto the couch and partially onto Kelsey’s lap, who jumped up in alarm. Christina grabbed Michael by the arm and tried to placate him with more mints, but he shoved her hand away and pointed towards himself, barking something.

Gabriel stood up and started chattering, and pretty soon Michael had been coaxed back into his chair.

I edged a bit closer to the window. Where had Blake gone?

Lane and Noel grabbed an ice pack and carried the new guy upstairs. Glenn rocked slowly in her rocking chair, lightly touching the still raw cuts on her face. She had clearly removed the bandages too early, and every time her finger brushed her pink flesh, it’d turn briefly white.

Half an hour later, when Michael lashed out about something someone had said, leaping to his feet and gesturing wildly, Glenn fainted. She was back in a second, but clearly woozy, and Lane helped her upstairs.

Kell said something. I couldn’t help but mostly keep my eyes on him- well, him and Michael. Naturally. He wasn’t impressed by what’d he seen of the angels, and had the same sort of frown on his face that I’d occasionally prompt. That look in his eyes like he’d never be paid enough for this.

He said something, and I could see it on his face that it was a quip. Michael leapt to his feet again, his gut reaction to most things. With one fluid movement, he drew his blade, and had it against Kell’s skin. There was no other way to describe his expression besides ‘fuming’- breathing hard, each breath a inhale a physical lift of his body.

Christina threw her hands up and was talking quickly, as was Gabriel. Kell sighed, and slowly rolled his eyes, a direct challenge. Blake appeared from around the corner, holding a glass of milk, and seeming quite alarmed. At least, his eyes widened.

Michael spun around, effortlessly calling a second blade into his hands, and forming it into a pike. He pointed it at Blake, and shouted something.

This was so stupid.

I was close enough to the window anyway. I got up and took a few steps around the side of the house, and went back inside. Everything about this was dumb was hell, and it figured I’d...

Oh. I don’t know. I really don’t.

Something about this figured. You try to spy on a party, and your former best friend threatens your newer former best friend with a spear. You plan to be cool and let said newer former best friend get absorbed by a time glitch, and still feel the need to jump in and save his life. Like you aren’t planning on ensuring he doesn’t lose his in a few hours anyways.

Except all those ‘you’s are about me. You know. I know.

Whatever.

I entered the living room, and Michael swung to face me.

“Gardener demon,” he said, sounding like a complete imbecile.

“Hey Michael. What’s up?”

“Oh. You know.” He fixed his posture, and hid both his weapons. “I was wondering where you were.”

“Did you never glance out the window?” Kell said. “I’m going to focus on pointing out how obvious Mannie was in sitting outside and watching us instead of noting how ludicrous it is that you two know each other.”

“Is it really that silly?” I said.

“No. It makes perfect fucking sense,” Kell huffed, “And I’m not particularly happy about that.”

“Hey Mannie.” Blake looked at me, tightly clutching his glass of milk. He’d retreated back to the safety of the kitchen the moment the attention had been off him, and he barely moved forward to speak.

“Hi.”

There was a dreadful lull in the conversation. Noel, I noted, was still clutching a handgun half hidden by her side. Raphael was slowly rubbing the ring he had on his index finger with his thumb.

Blake was standing there.

“Uh, right. So.” Michael cleared his throat, and then with a fluid shift, again had his blade positioned at Kell’s throat. Kell leaned back a bit and scowled. “Why shouldn’t I take vengeance? Claim one life in exchange for another? One life in exchange for hundreds, truly.”

“I didn’t kill _hundreds_ of angels.” Kell sounded like a tired professor correcting a seventh grader’s grammar.

“ _Aerdens,_ your name alone is worth twenty deaths.”

“The hell does that mean,” Kell said flatly.

“ _Aerdens!”_ Michael snarled, flipping his sword so that the sharp end pressed against Kell’s throat.

Kell looked at me, and mouthed something. Why do people expect me to know how to read lips?

“What _does_ that word even mean?” Kelsey asked, appearing far more concerned than Kell about all this.

“You’re next.” Michael glared at him.

“Jesus _fuck_ ,” I sighed, stepping forward. It’d been long enough. “It means ‘air tooth’, like ‘sky blue tooth’, like ‘angels are fucking awful at nicknames’. Now come on Michael, give it a rest.” I gently touched his hand, and he jerked back, dropping his blade. It clattered on the hardwood floor once before dissolving into non existence.

“He was being rude to me!” Michael whined. I took his hand in mine, and he clutched my hand.

I looked deep into his eyes. God, you know, he actually had really nice eyes. I wasn’t one to pay attention to such things, but his were bright blue. Fake as shit. The sort of color only comic book character could have. “You are a goddamn child.”

“Watch your language, Mannie,” Kell said sweetly, and I made sure to roll my eyes at him.

Michael frowned, and when he took his hand out of mine, he’d left his ring. I would’ve hugged him, but I settled for a nod, and he whispered:

“Alright.”

And that was enough.


	28. And later

Blake was... Blake was here. I rolled Michael’s ring around in my palm, watching the room. It was calm again. Michael was back in his chair, now working through a second bowl of mints. I sat on the table in front of him, watching my feet.

“ _Do you know how unhealthy those things are for you?_ ” Raphael said, watching Michael tear through another hard candy. He was speaking angelic without really needing to, and Cassiel and her friend were paying idle attention, like this was some important matter for angels.

“ _I’ll shoot myself in the head if I get tooth rot,_ ” Michael said, crunching loudly. He popped another mint in his mouth. “Gotta stay awake.” He glanced up at me. “You following?”

“Pretty well.”

“Hum,” he said, like it was the sort of thing people said from time to time. He might as well have said ‘taxes’- his tone carried everything you needed to know about what he was feeling.

“So.” Christina loudly cleared her throat. She was sitting by my feet, seemingly a bit perturbed that I had shown up and calmed Michael down like that. “We should have an actual... meeting.”

“What?” Noel said, “A _meeting?_ At this _wonderful_ party? What a concept.”

“Please don’t get sarcastic with me.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to sound rude,” Noel stood up, gesturing to herself, “Just, you know, it’s a bit disorienting. Who the fuck are you again? Why the hell is this ‘meeting’ happening?”

“We’re here to discuss the slight possibility of a peaceful conclusion to this war,” Lane said, earnestly, though surely Noel knew this already. “No promises, just giving it a chance.”

“Why? We’ve been quite content with the war. It isn’t like there’s protests down in the square- well, er, anymore- or really all that negative a perspective of the fighting. Everyone’s cool with it. We’re basically winning.”

“You wouldn’t be if I allowed it,” Michael said bitterly. He wasn’t lying. “I could kill everyone in this room in seconds, but I choose not to. I could end the war in days, but I graciously allow otherwise.”

“Why _haven’t_ you slaughtered us all yet?” Kell sounded bemused at the very real concept.

“Because there’s no fun in an easy fight.”

“I wouldn’t encourage him too much.” Raphael interjected, raising his hand a little bit before speaking. He smiled slightly.

“Hey.” The new guy, with his new dark bruise, stood up and nodded at Raphael. “I can see your brother there as the type of bloodthirsty asshole I hate. You look like a literal twelve year old- what are you doing backing him?”

Raphael nervously laughed, “A twelve year old can’t have opinions? Michael is my brother, and I stand with him.” He glanced to the side while he smiled, clearly uncomfortable with explaining himself, “We’re no more evil than you are, ultimately. And... honestly, I’m older than I look. And I used to be older than even that.”

“What?” The new guy shook his head. He seemed to have a thing for over gesturing. “You guys are disgusting. And I hate you. And I know I got clocked in for saying it a few minutes ago, but I’ll say it again: I really, really fucking hate you guys, and just seeing all your faces makes me that more excited to separate them from your skulls.”

Across the room, Stacy gently rolled his eyes. There was a lot of that going around tonight.

“Can we try and talk about something else?” Christina said nervously. “Mi- Micky, do you mind dropping the subject? We’re just here until midnight and... it’d be best to have no more deaths.”

“Yeah. And whose fucking fault were the last few anyway?”

In angelic, Percy muttered something that I could’ve sworn was ‘ _yours_ ’. Gabriel quietly shushed him.

“I know you’re upset about Charlie,” Christina said to Micky. I had a strong suspicion his name was actually ‘Michael’, but Michael wouldn’t have stood for that. “No one, actually, is quite happy about anyone else’s death. We’ve asked you here because he said such-”

“We’ve? Since when do you speak for them? Who the hell are you, anyway? Noel had a good point.”

“You know, I’m sure she did.” Christina would never have thrived in customer service; she was having difficulty hiding her growing indignation. “We all think we have great points. The only thing is, some of us are _assholes_ who are trying to get themselves killed, and _some of us_ are nice people just trying to solve a two century long war.”

“He has a point, Chrissie,” Kell said sweetly, to which Christina grimaced. “You don’t speak for us. Alexander does, and we made sure he didn’t show up.” He frowned. “Or really, he never bothered to show up to something he technically planned. Still. No one here speaks for anyone. This whole night may well be a huge mistake. Let’s aim to keep it blood-free, and drink to forget.”

“Oh man! You guys got any absinthe?” Michael perked up instantly.

“You _also_ look twelve.” Micky had given up on sounded accusative, and fell back onto the couch.

“Shut up. Answer my question. I am _not_ twelve.”

“How old are you?” Christina said, back to her perky self and sounding like she genuinely wanted to know. “I don’t drink, so the most we have here is some wine that... Percy probably stole from you?”

“I’m old enough to drink,” Michael said under his breath. He looked up to me like I had anything to contribute to this conversation. “Am I attractive?”

“No,” I said.

“No.” Christina shrugged. “You do look about my age though. You could pass for cute I guess? Like when I was sixteen, you could’ve been in a boy band or something, and then I’d be okay with your face.”

“Harsh words coming from someone who barely counts as an adult,” Kell interjected. “You know, I was against it at first, but I do think it’s about time we got back on subject and tried to get something done.”

“I was rather hoping we’d hit be able to hit the midnight threshold still scattered about like this. At this rate, we might actually find some abstract way to be productive.” Kelsey looked exhausted. He was the first to get up and walk to the dining table, which was clearly too small to sit everyone. It barely had room for the angels as is. “Of course, I was also hoping I’d be wasted by now. We can’t always get what we want.”

“We _can_ make compromises though,” Kell said, getting up. “Christina, do you mind bringing out that wine you mentioned?”

“This sounds like my cue to get moving,” I said, making room as the assembly slowly started to assemble.

“You have your uses.” The scar on Kell’s face was slightly visible from under his bandages, a little bit of grey hue peeking out against his already dusty pale skin. I wonder what it felt like to touch. Probably like sandpaper. Probably like a pile of loose soil.

“My uses,” I repeated.

Kell gestured slightly to Michael, who was watching with wide blue eyes. I was still clutching his ring.

“What’s your opinion on all this then?”

“Bad.”

“Care to elaborate?”

“You know me well enough to guess,” I said, raising my eyebrows.

“You’re absolutely fucking hilarious, you know that?” Kell carefully enunciated that bit, “See you later.”

“You’re quite the jokester yourself.”

That was possibly the dumbest last words I’ve ever said. My face felt hot, and by all odds, Kell would be dead by the next time I dropped by Hell. Okay. Way to leave him with something memorable and charming. That’d keep him awake at night. _Jokester_.

I was such a moron. A few feet away, watching me from the doorway like he’d been the whole time, Blake sipped his drink.

I left.

 

Michael followed me outside, and with his presence dogging at my heels, I settled to merely perch on a stone wall that ran through the backyard instead of heading to my true destination of Hell.

“What do you want?” I asked.

“Hey... Mannie,” he said gently. He looked at me dearly, even in the darkness I could see that much.

I frowned as obviously as I could, hoping he could see. “You’re needed back there.” I jerked my head towards the house. “It’s no good to waste your time with me.”

He looked out at the house while he spoke, “I wanted to be with you for a moment.”

“Okay. Why?”

“You know.” He shifted a little, crossing his legs underneath him. “Am I really childish?”

“I’m probably worse,” I said. “Hey.”

“Hey?”

“Sorry.”

“You too.”

“Do you think there’s any merit to the idea of peace?”

“You’re the one who called for the meeting- what, does it not inspire you towards greatness? Fuck, war and peace, right? The big epics. I get why everyone’s hot for it, at least.”

“Do you think you’ll actually do it?”

“Nah.” Michael was picking at the skin around his nails. When he was younger, he used to bite them to nubs. Now his nails were impeccable, lightly painted with golden glitter. The skin around them was a bleeding, scabbed mess. “Who was that kid?”

“Blake. I like him.”

“ _Like_ like him?”

“Michael, are you perhaps mistaking both yourself and I for small children, no older than eight? At the very least, you seem to think I’m the sort of adult who goes around getting crushes.”

“I don’t think you’re an adult.”

“Not the answer I was looking for. Blake’s... Kill me if, in any iteration of life, I view him as anything other than a friend. Mind you, he’s the sort of friend I’ve...” I swallowed. “Michael, do you care about this?”

“No,” he answered wholeheartedly. “What’s so special about Blake?”

“He’s a nice guy. He’s good at doing that, and being that. And I guess... that’s it about him, you know. Nice. I’m not. Wish I was.”

“Sometimes things have run their course, yeah? And then they end.”

“Right. Do you think I could be nice?”

“I think you’re fine, Ella. Better than _someone_ , surely, and everyone’s used to dealing with polite folks. Might as well be an asshole and stand out from the crowd. Embrace it.”

“I’d rather change.”

“It’s been two hundred years, Ell. I don’t think either of us are about to do anything drastically different.”

 

Midnight was closing in fast, or as fast as time could close in: second by second. Minute by moment.

It was the oddest time of day, not really a time but a point, a decisive marker for the next day, and a late bedtime. When I’d been a kid, I’d made sure to never look at my clock when midnight came, afraid of the consequences.

Midnight was never a good thing to meddle with.

Watching the cycle change was an experience that demanded a party. Usually someone from The Few would be enlisted for this task, and while everyone else was gathering remaining souls or sorting out next cycle’s finances and looting parties, a steady collection of booze and fine food would be stockpiled in this cabin.

The cabin never changed much, one of many places to do so, and the technical owner of the place had been a demon many ages ago. Most of the furniture in it was old too- though, of course, just about anything that had been through Hell had trouble shifting when the change came.

It was a gradual thing, somewhere between an tidal wave and a sunset in how it moved. The whole world began to bristle in the minutes leading up to midnight, and then things seemed to revert back two decades at random- sometimes, for example, a single tree would cease to exist without warning.

It made for one hell of a show, even out in the middle of the woods. When midnight struck, everything, one-by-one, would suddenly be as it had been. Watching the forest was almost more exciting than the city, as the mountains would shake like fur, and the grass would shift violently, leaving out hundreds of cuts and growths in the span of a few seconds.

Regular demons weren’t allowed on Earth during the cycle change, and it wasn’t broadcasted in Hell either. All there was to remember things were The Few: twelve people gathered around a pile of televisions, sipping cocktails and staring blankly.

This year, there were more people, and no hard liquor. And the sense of despair seemed a little heavier than usual.

Humans couldn’t remember the cycles, and there was something cathartic about watching their reactions to the world falling apart in front of them. The panic as buildings left, loved ones shifted out of existence, and then-

They were gone, so that was that.

The best part was the reporters, losing nineteen years of their life on live TV, no longer knowing who they were or why they were there. Young again, often. Many of them children, briefly draped in giant suits, then children’s clothes, then gone. Not even given a chance to cry before the universe took them away.

There was a pause at the end of it, a brief moment where time didn’t flow for anyone but the damned, where old anchors were brought back into their chairs unmoving, old graphics filled the screens, and at a minute past midnight, time began again:

In the middle of things, on May the fifth, the day Michael Lexington had been born.

 

I’d seen enough midnights in my life that I had no qualms with heading back to Hell early. Tonight was already radically pushing my usual bedtime, and I was dying for some shut eye.

It’d rained recently, and as I headed back into the woods towards the Hellmouth, I had difficulty keeping my footing on the wet leaves. I clutched small trees in the dark, trying not to slip and dearly wishing I’d brought gloves. Or that I was the sort of person who wore gloves in the first place.

It wasn’t the blanketed frost of winter, but rather the shrill harshness of an autumn night that kept me shivering with every step I took. The wind brought the scents of fire, and I was half reminded of another bitter night, years ago in January, where we’d all had a sip of alcohol around a bonfire.

I wasn’t one for parties. Wasn’t one for a good time. I was probably exclusively fueled by rage, discontent, and leftover teen angst that stuck around over the years.

Michael could call me Ella. Always had, and I’d never forgive him for it.

He left, and I knew he’d forget me again by the next time we’d meet. I’d told him to consider peace, and then we both had a good laugh, rubbing shoulders in the cold air. He held my hand again briefly, and I returned his ring.

Old thing. I’d given it to him years ago. Hadn’t been magic then, except in that silly little romantic way people sometimes think of things. We’d been kids, and he’d fancied me, and I figured that meant I had to like him in return. And be the sort of person who used the word ‘fancied’.

I stole the ring from a second hand shop, and it’d been shiny gold at the time. Now it was a worn silver, only in its dents carrying the tiniest smudges of colored plating.

I have never been in love with anyone but myself and the idea of someone who could love me. Michael did once, and that had done nothing to sway me in my festering uncertainty.

Michael had loved all of his friends though. That was the sort of guy he’d been. Nice, like Blake. He hadn’t kept like that though.

Maybe Blake would become like Michael someday, bitterly lost and throughly misplaced.

So.

I was not alone in walking back to Hell. I’d heard the footsteps a few minutes after I’d left, but it was too dark to bother trying to make out who it was-

And besides, I knew.

At the Hellmouth, I stopped and turned around.

“You haven’t said a word,” I said.

“Neither have you.” The new moon made it hard to make out Blake’s expression.

“Why are you following me?”

“I saw you go.” I could see a bit of movement. A lazy shrug. “Plus, everyone was kind of telling me... the cycle change is tonight. I have to get back to Hell.”

“So you know.”

“Yeah.”

“I... kind of wanted you to... go.”

“Die?”

“It’s not death,” I said helpfully.

Blake sounded exasperated. “You’re really big on leaving people, huh?”

“I thought you wanted to be left alone.”

“What the fuck do you think you’re saying right now? You were hoping I’d die because... I don’t know! I don’t know.”

“Well, I don’t know either.”

Blake sighed.

I sighed.

“Look. Mannie. You’ve changed, I’ve changed, you’re annoying, and I... don’t know who I am. It’s pretty clear whatever palship we had is through. Can you just acknowledge that and move on?”

“How about you shut up?” I said, actually pretty casually, like it was merely a polite suggestion.

“I’m going to return to Hell. I highly suggest you return to the shadows from whence you came or whatever. At least hang out at the party with your killer angel friend.” Blake continued on ahead, marching steadily towards the Hellmouth until he was out of my sight.

“Blake, wait,” I called after him. First it was steady and quiet, in the same dull cadence I always spoke in. But when he failed to return, I kept yelling, louder and louder until my vocal cords felt like they had been ripped out and processed through a paper shredder.

I ran towards the Hellmouth at full force, until I fell into its shadow in exhaustion, panting in the barest of moonlight and staring up at the silhouette of Blake, sitting on top and kicking his legs slowly.

“I’m waiting,” he said. I made no effort to join him up there, and instead sat on the damp ground and looked up at his backlit features.

“Sorry.”

“Excuse me, what was that?”

“I’m really fucking sorry.” I snapped every bone in my left hand, and then my right. My gums felt sore. My head was dizzy. My mouth was dry. Nothing about my existence felt right. “For dragging you around and not thinking you were a person, and not really realizing you have a life and feelings, and everyone actually does, and-” I caught my breath. “You deserve a lot more than me.”

Blake made a sound like ‘hm’, but softer, and less inquisitive.

“But you know, I meant the best. Or at least, I think I meant a lot, and I think that lot was quickly lost in the muddle of everything else. I’m sorry. You’re really, really good.”

“I’m not here to hear you grovel to me. Just saying you’re sorry is enough.”

“Don’t you hate me?”

“Hating you would be the worst thing I could ever do to you,” he said, and I think the world was alright then, for a second. Among everything, after it all, in the midst of time cycle fuckery and an age old war of immortals, I was a child again. Here in the woods, speechless.

“But then-”

“I think you’re a mess. And the world would probably be a better place without you. But a _different_ one.”

“Different. Is that a positive statement or a negative one?”

“You, of all people, are not someone I would have expected to question that. Listen Mannie, what I want to do now is simple- I want to forget this and move on.”

“What, back to normal?”

“You still owe me one or ten favors, and I’m still keen on us spending a lot less time together, but yes. Because either we spend five years groveling to each other and whining and apologizing, or we just suck it up and figure out a way forward.”

“That seems like... I don’t know, too easy of a way out? What about consequences?”

“I think if there’s one thing I’ve learned from all that’s happened, it’s that sometimes there’s consequences to your actions and sometimes there aren’t, and either ways what you did is what you did. Just try not to get anyone killed along the way and you’re golden.”

“So you want to be my friend?”

“I want to keep knowing you. Just give me a little bit of space. What are you doing sitting on the ground like that, by the way? Come up and join me.” Blake reached his hand out, and I climbed up and sat next to him on the Hellmouth. “We’ve still got a while before midnight.”

“So what, you’re over everything already?” I asked.

“Yeah. I don’t want to be over it, and I don’t want to move on. I want to hate you, you know. But I’m not going to.”

“All your friends are dead.”

“That’s true. I’m still mourning for them. But you know, at the same time, I only knew them for three days.”

“You’ve only known me for eight.”

“Yeah,” Blake said, “Funny how that works. It’s sad that people have died, but you know, I don’t think they were ever really _friends_. You’re not my friend either.”

“So where do we go from here?”

“Where do we go from here?” He repeated with a heavy exhale. I caught his eye then, not for the first time but for the last time in a long while. And he wasn’t quite looking at me, but at something dark beyond my face.

And as I was sitting there I realized something I should have a long time ago- or perhaps something I had long ago realized but only just now remembered: I liked Blake. A lot.

I smiled despite all my efforts not to, and Blake nudged me, and laughed for what sounded like half a second. I laughed a lot longer.

Gripping Blake’s hand in mine, I tried to ignore everything that was awful. “I’m sorry.”

“I’ve heard. You don’t need to apologize anymore.”

I grasped his hand tightly.

“What’s wrong?”

“A lot,” I said, and I felt like this was it. This was enough. I could probably live with never speaking again if it meant those would be my last words.

Blake was there with me, and in another few seconds, like everything else in my life, that too had passed.

In the damp darkness of October, the morning before Halloween, I balled my fists up and shivered in the wind, cold under the light of the new moon, alone in a shifting forest. Thinking of a tampered clock and the boy who hadn’t known.

In another few seconds, it was spring, and I was warm, and besides the world, nothing else had changed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The End.
> 
> The sequel is called Radicle. It's a plant thing.


End file.
